Caught me by Surprise
by sapphireandcopper
Summary: Modern AU. John Bates, finally having called things off with his on-again-off-again girlfriend Vera, has been working at Grantham Books for a few months when he first meets Anna, a captivating young graphic designer who is everything he isn't. Primarily Anna/Bates, but with cameos from most of our faves.
1. Starts with an A

**Author's Note:** So I'm planning for this to be a loose modern parallel of the canon Anna/Bates trajectory. Loose being the operative word, but yeah. A little à la Lizzie Bennet Diaries or Emma Approved, but I'll stray a little farther from the source material than those do. Enjoy!

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><p>Apparently the staff Halloween party, for which neither attendance nor costumes were optional, had been the brainwave, a few years ago, of Cora, one half of the husband-wife team who ran the publishing house. It had been her idea also, he was told, to have table groupings based not on, say, department or something else logical, but instead on costume theme. Which was how John Bates, who'd been working as an editor at Grantham Books for a few months, found himself at the Literary References table, dressed as the Dr. Frankenstein to his younger friend William's Monster. They were joined at the table by a two giggly interns in Hogwarts robes; a Hobbit whom John was fairly certain worked in Accounting; a young couple from Marketing dressed as what was apparently a modernized version of Elizabeth Bennett and William Darcy from some web series adaptation of Pride and Prejudice; Thomas (a rather unpleasant fellow who was also in Marketing) dressed as Holden Caulfield, and an attractive young blond woman who John hadn't met yet, dressed as Lewis Carrol's Alice.<p>

For some reason, looking at her was making John think of his on-again-off-again-but-finally-for-real-this-time ex-girlfriend. Well, perhaps it wasn't Alice that made him think of her. Probably it was because that afternoon, he'd had yet another frustrating conversation trying to nail down a time to meet so she could give him back his spare key, and he could get rid of the boxes of her things that had been sitting in his entryway for weeks(his ex, that was. Not Alice). So he'd been thinking about Vera, and looking at Alice(it occurred to him that he didn't know her real name. He'd been told it, he knew, but couldn't remember what. He thought it, as well, started in an "A". Amanda? Andrea? Arianna? Something like that.) Looking at her, he was struck by how she was the precise opposite of Vera in every way. Where Vera's hair was dark and course, hers was blond and silky. Where Vera's face was permanently marked with frown lines, this girl hadn't stopped smiling or laughing, it seemed, since she sat down. While Vera would have been making snide comments about people's costumes, Alice seemed to have had something nice to say to everyone. And while Vera would have probably chosen a vaguely-sinister, dark costume(a witch, probably he thought to himself), this girl was resplendent in sky blue and white.

Caught up in his musings, he was only half-listening to the conversation. He vaguely registered the song that was playing change, and the girl saying. "Oh, this is a good one, I love Avicii. Who will come dance with me?"

Really though, it was the snide remark coming from Holden, on his left "Bates will dance with you, won't he?" (balls. Have I been staring that obviously?) that brought him out of his reverie.

The girl didn't seem to notice anything odd, however. "Lovely!" She pronounced, bouncing lightly to her feet and pulling John out of his chair and onto a dance floor that was just beginning to get populated.

He could barely hear the lyrics of the song over the ambient noise, but she clearly knew them. She danced playfully, with abandon, John scrambling to attempt to keep up, and feeling horribly awkward. She danced, he thought, in a way one only can when one is thoroughly in love with the world. She was laughing, singing along to the song, pulling him in with her. Both too soon and not nearly soon enough, it ended, and they both took a moment to catch their breath. "I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him. "I forced you into that, didn't I?"

"No," he stumbled "I had fun, I just, don't dance much I suppose. And don't know that song. I promise I'm not always that awkward."

She laughed, then paused, listening, her face lighting up. "Yes! I'm almost certain you'll know this one, and it's far easier to dance. Do-over?"

By now he could make out the song that was starting as well, and he barely had time to acquiesce graciously before the lyrics began, and he had to follow directions. "It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the riiiiight!"

As the final bars of the Time Warp ran down, John tried to get his breath, thoroughly drenched now, although he had to admit he'd had fun.

The blond imp grinned up at him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He smiled. "No, it wasn't. I'd even venture as far as to say I enjoyed it. But I'm afraid I'm about beat for now."

"Not a problem," she grinned at him again, and then, oddly, endearingly formal, held out her hand for him to shake. "Thank you for your company, Mr. Bates." With that she slipped off through the throng, towards where a group of young women, including the owners' eldest daughter, Mary Crawley(dressed as some sort of Greek princess, it looked like) were waving her over.

The rest of the night, as he sat at the table with William, nursing a scotch and soda and consoling the younger man, who was vainly trying to catch the eye of one of the assistants, he found his eyes drifting back again and again, to the blond girl, Alice. She spent most of the night on the dance floor, dancing every song with the same abandon and joy she had for the first two. She was captivating. As much as he'd felt awkward and out of place, he'd also enjoyed dancing with her immensely. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She was bouyant, and dancing with her, he'd felt a bit lighter too.

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><p>It was a few days later, that John was sitting in front of his computer, positively stumped. He wasn't hopeless when it came to technology, but he wasn't brilliant either, and this had him beat. He was just resigning himself to having to call tech support, when Mary Crawley walked by. She was the only of the Crawley children to work at Grantham, although precisely what her job title was, he couldn't tell you. She mostly seemed to float around, making sure everything was ship shape. Human Resources, maybe? She noticed his frustrated expression. "Is something wrong, Mr. Bates?"<p>

"Oh, just my computer. It's frozen up, and I've tried the usual things. I'm going to have to call Tom," he said, naming the company's IT guy.

Mary frowned. "Tom's not in the office this week. He went to Dublin, some family thing." She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand

"That's too bad. Do we have a substitute?"

"I'm afraid not." She thought for a moment. "But Anna from Creative is brilliant with computers. I'll see if she can come take a look for you."

Anna sat, staring at her screen, trying to decide if the chapter titles for the book she was working on should be in one of the two fonts she currently had on her screen, or if she'd be better to just bite the bullet and design a new one. Just then, an iMessage popped up in the corner of her screen.

Mary Crawley: Do you have a minute to do some sub IT support? Tom's off this week and I've got an editor with a frozen screen he can't work out.

She quickly typed a reply, glad of a distraction for a few minutes.

Sure! Who & where?

The reply came back a moment later.

Mary Crawley: John Bates, cubicle 14.

A few minutes later, she was knocking on the partition beside his desk.

"Hello again"

He turned in his chair. "Hello. Thank you for coming, I hope I didn't disturb you" Anna, he thought of course. Suddenly, oddly, his computer problem seemed much less annoying

"No problem, I'm glad to help," She smiled, and walked over. "So what seems to be the problem?"

He'd been standing behind his desk chair for several minutes, watching her work, and he felt increasingly more awkward, feeling like he should say something. "So how did you become the stand-in IT person?"

"Because I used to be terrible at it!" She laughed, and looked at him over her shoulder, elaborating. "I did a fine arts major in Uni, and I wanted to do illustration or graphic design. But so much of it these days is on graphics programs, and I was useless with computers. My advisor told me to take Intro Computer Science before I took a graphic arts class, so I could get my feet wet, he said. But I enjoyed it, so I ended up doing a minor."

"So Fine Arts plus Computer Science is the recipe for a graphic designer?"

"Not really, I did a masters in graphic design after that," she explained.

"I see. Do you get a lot of people surprised that your masters isn't the same as your bachelors? I forever have people asking that."

"Yeah, sometimes," she smiled "what did you study, then?"

"I double-majored in creative writing and world issues, minored in history."

"Wow. And then?"

I was a journalist for a few years after, actually. I was overseas, covering the war. But then. . . " he trailed off. I couldn't take it anymore he thought. "Well, I came back. Did a Master's in English Lit. I wanted to be a novelist. But, this pays the bills. I don't mind it, though." He amended.

"Do you still write?" She asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"A little."

They fell silent again for a moment, Anna concentrating on whatever it was she was doing to his computer. A moment later, she swivelled in the chair, flashing him a smile. "All done! You should be good to go." She stood up, giving him his seat back.

"Amazing. Thank you,"

She blushed a little. "Not a problem."

He thought for a second. "I was thinking of going across the street to get a cup of coffee, can I bring you something back, to thank you?"

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Bates," she smiled, and then, seeing he was about to protest, held up a hand. "But, as a matter of fact, I could use a little walk, so I might come with you. If it'll make you feel better, I'll let you buy my coffee." She grinned at him.

* * *

><p>That evening, John sat at the small desk in his flat, answering some emails before turning in for the night. Finishing up, he was about to close his laptop when he decided against it, and instead, opened iTunes. He went to the search bar, and typed in 'Avici'. He wasn't sure of the spelling, or even if it was a song title or a band, but he hit enter.<p>

Did you mean "Avicii"?

He clicked on it. Band, it seemed. He navigated to the page for their most recent album, then clicked to preview it track by track. The first couple of songs didn't sound familiar, and he wondered if he would even recognize it. But then the fourth sample played, and he recognized the beat, if nothing else, and a few snatches here and there that he'd remembered Anna singing along to. His looked for the title. Addicted to You. Well, he wouldn't go quite that far. But, nonetheless, he found his cursor drifting over, almost of its own accord, and clicking 'purchase'

He didn't know about addicted, but captivating, at least, Anna certainly was.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think :)


	2. It's a Small World

**AN:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed my first chapter! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far :) Yes, John is definitely a little smitten with Anna, and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. This chapter brought to you by. . . banter, and cuteness. Enjoy!

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><p>John walked through the parking lot, one of the last people to be leaving, as was often the case. He was looking forward to getting away for the weekend, even if weddings weren't really his cup of tea. He was almost to his car when he noticed, off to his left, a figure in a blue coat peering under the hood of a beat-up red sedan. Approaching, he realized it was Anna. "Can I help?"<p>

She looked up, startled. She'd thought most people had gone home by now. "My car won't start," she stated somewhat unnecessarily, frustrated at the whole situation. "I can do the basic things, you know. Change a tire, check the oil. But this is beyond me." She sighed. "And it would happen this weekend, when I have to go out of town."

John found himself suddenly, absurdly, wishing he was a mechanic. "I'd like to say I could help, but I'm afraid it would be beyond me as well. Unless it could be the battery? I could give you a jump start. My car's just there." He gestured.

"No, she sighed. "I've checked that already. I'm just going to have to get it towed, and hope I can get a train. Thank you, though."

He thought for a moment, wishing there was something he could do. "Could I give you a lift to the station, at least? Or," he had a thought "in fact, I'm going away myself this weekend, to York. If where you need to be is on the way, or nearby, perhaps I could give you a lift?"

"Really?" She brightened. "Luck would have it, I need to be in York as well."

"Excellent." He said, and meant it. "It's settled then."

"You're sure you don't mind? Don't feel you have to."

"Nonsense, I'm going there anyways. Besides, I'll be glad of the company."

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><p>Anna hung up the phone, looking frustrated. "They said they can send someone, but it'll be nearly an hour. I'm sorry." She looked at him apologetically.<p>

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'm in no hurry, besides."

"Well, were you ready to leave from work, or do you need to go home?"

"I'm afraid I do."

"Well then." She grinned, pleased with herself. "I'm all set here. You go home, and by the time you get back, the tow truck should have come."

"Is the heat working in your car?" He asked. It was just below freezing, and his ears were already getting numb.

"Oh." Her face fell. "No, I don't think it is."

"Well then, we'd best both wait in my car," he said, ready to lead the way.

"No, I can't make you stay and wait on my account. I'll be fine." There was a challenge in her eyes. He suppressed a grin. There was a fire in her, Anna.

"It's two below. I can't make you stand out here for an hour," he reasoned

"You're not making me do anything," she retorted, stubborn in her resolve not be an inconvenience. "I choose to stand here in the cold of my own free will. Shoo." She waved her hand.

He stood there, sizing her up and fighting a smile. "Well. You're right about one thing. I can't _make_ you do anything. I can, however, choose to go and sit over there, in my car, with the heat on, until the tow truck comes. Whether or not you choose to join me is up to you."

Anna stood, leaning on her car, shivering and glaring at John Bates sitting smugly in his. He knew she would cave, apparently. She looked at her watch, then looked back up to see him mouthing something at her. She shrugged. He repeated it, enunciating more clearly this time. "I'm not leaving!" She laughed, and decided to give in.

Pulling open his passenger door, she settled into the seat with as much dignity as she could muster, crossing her arms.

"Hello," she could hear the smugness in his voice.

"You didn't have to wait for me." She said, grumpily. Above all things, Anna Smith hated to feel like an inconvenience.

"And you didn't have to come," he retorted, but a smile played around his eyes. "Yet here you are."

After a moment's silence, he spoke again "If it'll make you feel better, you could get us some coffee," he offered.

"I think I'll do that," she said, still trying to sound mad.

He fought back a laugh. "Black, please."

In a few minutes, she was back, handing him a steaming cup.

"Thank you. For the coffee, and deigning to join me. I was getting quite bored, you know."

At that, she laughed. "Fine. You win, John Bates."

He smiled. "I'm glad. I really don't mind waiting, you know."

"Well, thank you. I do appreciate it."

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><p>Two hours after he'd run into her in the parking lot, and they were finally on the road, after a brief stop for John to grab his suitcase. He was trying to think of something to say, and he glanced over at her, only to notice a look bordering between discomfort and annoyance on Anna's face.<p>

"Is something bothering you?"

"What? No, of course not"

"Yes, there is. What is it?" Anna might be a lot of things, but a good liar was not one of them.

"Nothing." she assured him.

"I'd really rather you tell me, if there is."

"It's silly, and really doesn't matter, I promise," she assured him.

"Now you've made me curious. Please?"

Anna sighed. "Fine," she relented. "But I told you, it's silly and it doesn't matter, and I'm only saying it because you asked,"

"I know," he reassured her. "I promise I won't be offended."

"I hate talk radio." She blurted out. "It's not rational, I know, and like I said, it doesn't matter, but if I was making a face, that's why."

"You hate talk radio?" he asked, intrigued "I didn't realize talk radio could elicit such strong emotions."

She laughed. "Well, I suppose I don't hate it, exactly. But I've always found it rather annoying. Or maybe it's just that I prefer music."

"Well, if that's the case, I really only put it on out of habit. It's something to break the silence. I don't think I've got any CDs in here, but please feel free to find a different station. Or there's a jack," he gestured to it, "if you've got something to plug into it."

She brightened, pulling her phone out of a pocket, then hesitated. "You're sure you don't mind?"

He grinned. "I promise."

He was enjoying Anna's selection of music, and perhaps even more her singing along to it, when she broke the silence this time. "So what did you say was bringing you to York this weekend?"

"I didn't. I'm going down for the wedding of an old friend."

"Really?" she seemed to find this very interesting. "I wonder. . .probably not, but does your friend happen to be marrying a girl named Gwen Dawson?"

He looked at her, surprised "Yes, as a matter of fact she is. I take it you'll be there too then?"

"Yes," she laughed "You can't get rid of me very easily, it seems"

"I can't say I'm trying to," he replied, and then immediately wondered if he'd misspoke, noticing her faint blush.

But she carried on, as if she hadn't heard his comment. "Gwen's an old friend as well. We were roommates in the dorms, first year at uni. How do you know Ellie?"

"We grew up together," he replied "we were neighbors, and went to school together. We don't see each other often any more, but we've kept in touch. I've never met Gwen, but Ellie's told me about her. They sound like they're happy."

"They are," Anna nodded. "They're very sweet together." After a brief pause, she spoke again, turning to him. "I'm glad you're going. Gwen and I don't have many mutual friends any more. It will be nice to know someone."

"I'm glad," he replied, both excited and nervous at the prospect of spending the following evening mostly in Anna's company. "I confess I was feeling much the same."

"Well then," Anna smiled "it's a good thing it's a small world!"

They'd lapsed into a comfortable silence again, as the city melted away into rolling fields, and Anna's music played on. John realized he hadn't felt this content in quite some time. After a while, Anna broke the silence. "The other day, you told me you are an aspiring novelist. What do you write about? I'm curious. If you'd like to share, that is" she added

"I wonder whatever made you think of that?" John asked, a smile in his voice. The Beatles' _Paperback Writer_ had started playing moments earlier.

She laughed. "You caught me"

"To answer your question, historical fiction, mostly."

"What time period?" Anna asked, intrigued.

"The 20s and 30s fascinate me. I've got a draft of a novel set just after the first war languishing on my computer, and I've been plotting out another one, set a little later, in the meantime. I took a class in undergraduate," he continued "on the interwar period, and I found it very interesting. It was a time of such massive change, you know. Technology was exploding; the entire class system, that had been stable for centuries, was being broken down; gender and racial barriers were beginning to be questioned. The bloodiest war ever seen had just been waged, and another was brewing hot on its heels. For the lower classes, opportunities they'd never dreamed of were suddenly possible, and for the upper classes, everything they knew was threatening to crumble beneath them. It was such a complex, confusing time, socially, and you can only imagine how difficult, but also exciting and fascinating, it must have been to navigate, which makes for interesting stories. The business of trying to be a person in the world is hard enough as it is, but combined with such a volatile social, economic and political context - well - It's a writer's dream, essentially." He only then realized that he must've sounded a little like a lecturing history professor. "I'm sorry. That was probably boring."

"No!" She assured him. "It does sound fascinating. I enjoy hearing people speak about things that they're passionate about." She smiled. "The last century certainly has been monumental in terms of change, hasn't it?" She mused. "I can't say I'm anything of an authority on history, but in terms of artistic production, the evolution that happened in the last hundred years is astounding."

"I can only imagine," he agreed. "I suppose social and artistic change go hand in hand"

"Of course," she nodded. "I personally find the few decades right before the first war to be some of the most interesting. Perhaps because that, really, is when things started to break from the way they'd always been."

"Which styles is that? I'm afraid my art history is a little rusty"

"Impressionists, mostly, then moving into Post-Impressionism and Expressionism. There's an exhibit on at the National Gallery, right now, actually, on Impressionism through Expressionism. An old professor of mine is one of the assistant curators. I really must make time to go soon."

"So," he said, after several minutes' silence. "You know about my dream now. What's yours? What does Anna Smith want to do, besides Graphic design?" Then he realized what that might've sounded like, and backtracked "not that graphic design isn't a wonderful career in and of itself, and-"

She laughed, cutting him off. "No, you're right. I do enjoy what I do, but it's not The Dream."

"What is, then?"

"I want to illustrate children's books. I like design, but drawing is my passion. I get to do some small-scale things at Grantham, illustrated covers, some chapter illustrations here and there, but nothing very big in scope. And I just love the idea of illustrating for children. Some of my earliest memories are reading with my mother. I remember the stories, but mostly I remember the ones that were really well illustrated, and almost . . . falling into the drawings. It was magical." She sighed.

"And you want to be a part of that?" He asked. She nodded. Just then, they were interrupted by her phone ringing.

Anna looked at the display, and mentally cursed herself. She'd forgotten to tell her father she'd been delayed. "It's my dad," she explained hastily, before answering the call "he lives in York and I'm staying there tonight, he would've expected me by now."

"Hello dad,"

"Anna!" Predictably, her father's tone was coloured with anxiety. "Where are you? I expected you at least half an hour ago"

"I'm sorry dad, I forgot to let you know. I had some car trouble, and ended up having to get it towed. But luck would have it I ran into someone from work who knows Gwen's fiancé, and was also driving up to York for the wedding. So I'm on my way, I'll just be a bit late, I'm sorry."

"Well! I'm glad it worked out. That was awfully nice of your friend. Someone I know?"

"No dad," she almost rolled her eyes, sensing the direction of his questioning "If it was I would have said. His name's John, we met recently."

"Well! You have to ask him to stay for dinner then, so I can thank him for coming to my little girl's rescue." Anna cringed.

"Dad. I'm sure he has other plans."

"You won't know until you ask! Do, and then call me back." And with that, he hung up giving her no chance to protest further. She sighed. Parents.

Anna turned to him, a slightly pained expression on her face. "As you may have gathered, I've been instructed to ask you to stay for dinner tonight. An invitation that you are under no obligation to accept," she added.

John wavered, unsure how to respond. He wasn't sure if Anna was being polite, or didn't want him to say yes. "Well, that's very nice of your father, but I wouldn't want to be a nuisance. . ."

"Oh no," Anna interrupted him, realizing he'd gotten the wrong idea. "I'm happy to have you come. I just don't want you to feel you have to, if you had better things to do."

"I don't, actually." John confessed. "The only reason I planned to head down tonight was because I have a strict policy against waking up before nine on weekends unless absolutely necessary." Anna laughed.

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><p>Just shy of an hour later, he pulled into the drive of a quaint two-story cottage, just on the outskirts of town. Walking up to the front door a step behind Anna, he realized how nervous he was. It was absurd. He had no reason to be nervous. He was having dinner with a friend (an acquaintance, really, he told himself) from work, and her father. It was a little strange, maybe. But not a reason to be nervous. Or so he tried to convince himself. He didn't have any more time to dwell, though, as just then the door was pulled open, spilling warm light into the evening, and revealing Anna's father, a slight, balding man, but with Anna's blue eyes and laugh lines.<p>

"Dad!" Anna quickly covered the few steps between her and the door, embracing her father. After a moment, he held her at arm's length, looking at her. "London's not treating you too poorly, I see,"  
>"No, dad," Anna laughed. "It's good to see you."<p>

"You too, sweetheart," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead, before turning to John.  
>"And you must be the man who came to my daughter's rescue! It's good to meet you," he said, holding out a hand to shake.<p>

"Thank you, Mr. Smith," John replied "But I wouldn't go so far as 'rescued'. Anna can take care of herself, I think." he smiled. "But I'm glad if I was able to make her journey a bit easier."

* * *

><p>Dinner over, Anna walked John to her front door. "I'm sorry if that was a bit much," she said in a low voice "My dad can be a bit enthusiastic."<p>

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "I had a lovely time."

He was almost out the door when he remembered something. "Shall I pick you up for the wedding tomorrow? Or were you staying here and driving yourself?"

"I'm staying at the hotel, yes, I was planning to leave from there tomorrow," she replied "But you don't have to. Dad won't mind giving me a lift, I don't want to make more trouble for you. You've been too kind already."

"Nonsense," he said "I don't mind at all. I've nothing to do tomorrow except get ready for the wedding, and it really doesn't take long to put on a suit," he smiled wryly.

"Well then," Anna acquiesced "If you insist."

He smiled. "I do. I'll come for you at two?"

"Sounds lovely."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you have it! I hope you enjoyed, I have a lot of fun writing Anna/Bates banter. They're far too cute. As we can see, John is certainly falling for a certain someone, but how's she feeling? I promise we'll hear more from her soon.  
>Also: I'm not from England, but I did Google maps how long it take to drive from London to York, and so I am aware that if we strictly adhere to reality Anna and John are having dinner with her dad at like 11 o'clock. But I really wanted to keep that bit in, so, let's just pretend it only takes two hours, just this once?<br>Next up: Gwen's wedding.

Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear what you think!


	3. Come Fly With Me

**A/N:** Hello lovely readers! I'm glad you're enjoying so far, and thanks a bunch for all of your reviews :) So here we have the wedding, and we finally get to hear from Anna a little. Also, warnings for a bit of swearing, and **trigger warning/ content warning for a scene with some minor sexual harassment**

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><p>John pulled up to Anna's father's house for the second time that weekend, feeling an uncanny flashback a teenaged John sitting sweaty-palmed behind the wheel of his first car, waiting to pick up the girl he fancied to take her to the movies. <em>Which is patently ridiculous<em>, he told himself. He didn't fancy Anna (did he?) and this certainly wasn't a date.

By this point he'd made his way up her front steps and rapped softly on the door. It opened, and there she was. Resplendent. She had on the same sky-blue wool coat as yesterday, a gauzy white scarf printed with a pattern of antique keys knotted loosely about her neck. Her hair was in some sort of complicated updo that seemed to involve braids, and there was a sparkle in her eyes. A few inches of cobalt-blue silk peeked out below the hem of her coat.

Okay, he fancied Anna. Might as well admit it, all the good it would do.

"Hello," she said brightly, as he stood there, dumbfounded. "Thanks again for coming to get me."

"My pleasure," he managed. "All set then?"

"Yes," she gestured to the shoulder bag on the floor beside her.

"Can I get that for you?"

"I'm good, thanks," she smiled, slinging it over her shoulder.

He liked that about her, he realized. She asserted her independence with every thing she did.

They'd been driving for several minutes when she spoke "so I realized you must be John."

He chuckled, "Astute observation?" realizing there must be more to her thought, but unable to help teasing her a little.

She laughed. "Sorry, let me start over. Gwen has told me before of Ellie's family, and how sad she was they weren't coming to the wedding, except a couple of cousins." John nodded soberly. "Because they don't approve of Ellie's 'choice', as they call it," she went on, "So Gwen was telling me about Ellie's friend John, and how she was so glad he was coming, because he's one of the only people who've known her since she was young who still support her. I just realized that must be you."

John nodded.

"That's nice that you can be there for her," she said, looking at him with something like admiration in her eyes.

He nodded. "I'm glad I can be."

"It's also funny," Anna continued. "Because when we spoke of you, it was because Gwen was apologizing to me that I wouldn't know many people there very well, but that Ellie's friend John wouldn't know many people either, so they were going to seat the two of us together, as Ellie thought we might get on." She laughed.

"That turned out well for them, then." John smiled wryly.

* * *

><p>"What did you get them?" John asked, overcome by curiosity about the large, flat package Anna had placed in his trunk on Friday and was removing now.<p>

"I did a portrait of them," Anna smiled. "Gwen hinted heavily that it was something they'd like," she laughed.

"That's lovely. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to see it."

"I think I've got a photo on my mobile, wait a moment" she pinned her gift under her arm, rummaging for the phone. After swiping through a few menus, she looked up, triumphant, and held it out to him. He took it, inspecting the picture. It was breathtaking. Gwen and Ellie were turned towards each other slightly, looking at one another, both laughing. It was done in ink, and coloured with what looked like, to John's limited knowledge, watercolours.

"This is fantastic, Anna." He handed her her phone back.

She blushed a little, and busied herself putting her mobile away. "Well, I hope they like it, at least."

"It's incredible. Of course they will." John realized that, despite her general confidence and self-assuredness, Anna could not take compliments well.

Inside, as they made their way to their seats, Anna pointed out to John the clever touches the couple had put on decorating the venue, and stopped to say hello to Gwen's parents, introducing John. Once in their seats, Anna shed her coat, and John got a real look at her dress. It was fitted on top, with a simple boat neck and three-quarter sleeves, then flared at her waist into a full skirt. Accessorized simply, with a short strand of pearls at her throat, she was stunning. "You look lovely, by the way."

"Thank you," she looked down, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I do love the dress. You don't look half-bad yourself," she grinned, looking up. Ever one to take the attention off herself. "It's not every man who can pull off a three-piece suit."

"Well," he said, trying to hide how pleased he was. "I'm glad if I'm one of them"

She smiled. "Definitely." And then she turned, facing front, as the pianist began to play, and a hush fell over the hall.

* * *

><p>John made his way into the reception hall alone, Anna having gone to check into her room while they waited. He found their table, and, sure enough, there was a place card with 'Anna Smith' on it right beside the one that said 'John Bates'. He felt a lucky man. He knew, of course, that nothing was likely to come of it, that the charming, effervescent Anna would not ever go for a bloke like him. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy her company while he had the privilege.<p>

Anna was enjoying herself, much more than she'd originally assumed. She'd had some nice conversations with her table mates, friends of Gwen's from Uni who she knew at least a little, but mostly, she was glad of John's company. Usually, she was drawn to people like herself: extraverted, outgoing and bubbly. But she found that the fact that John didn't talk all that much in general made everything he said to her seem all the more important. And he was interesting. She barely knew him, really, but she felt as though very little of the time she'd spent with him had been lacking in conversation.

It was the time of the evening for speeches now, and Anna clapped enthusiastically as Gwen's parents left the mic, and then, to her surprise, John started getting up. She looked at him quizzically.

"It's my turn," he said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from a breast pocket. "Gwen emailed me a few weeks ago, asking me to say a few words." Anna shook her head in awe, wondered what else this man was keeping to himself.

"Hello," he said, tapping the microphone a little nervously. "for those who don't know me, which is probably most of you, I'm John, and Gwen has asked me if I would say a few words, because otherwise there wouldn't have been anyone to tell embarrassing stories of seven year old Ellie, and well, we can't have that now. The first time I met Ellie, . . ." He turned to look at her, and Anna followed his gaze, noticing that Ellie's eyes were welling up.

"That was lovely," she told him as he sat back down.

"Thank you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, still obviously uncomfortable at the attention.

"Really," Anna continued earnestly. "I've been to enough weddings and heard enough terrible speeches to know that that was quite good" she laughed. "And I think Ellie really appreciated it. In fact-" she started, turning.

John followed her eyes to see Ellie and Gwen approaching them. Ellie swept him up in a crushing hug. "Thank you" she whispered.

Anna got up to embrace her friend as well. "Congratulations, Gwen. It's absolutely lovely."

"Isn't it?" Gwen smiled. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am," Anna nodded, smiling. Ellie and John had broken apart by then.

"Gwen, let me introduce you officially to John,"

"I'm glad to finally meet you," Gwen said. "Ellie's told me so much about you. And thank you, your speech was lovely, truly."

"You're very welcome, both of you."

"And I'm glad to see that you two have met," Ellie turned back to Anna.

"We knew each other already, actually," Anna laughed "so your scheme worked out better than you'd even planned"

"Really?" Gwen asked, seeming very interested.

Anna shot her friend a look. "John also works at Grantham," she explained."John nodded.

"I see," Gwen gave Anna a significant look. Anna rolled her eyes in response, but Gwen noticed a ghost of a blush on her friend's cheeks.

"Well, we'd probably better get going," Ellie said reluctantly, tugging Gwen's hand. "Lots of people to greet."

"Of course," Anna smiled. "Congratulations again, you two."

"I'll see you later," Gwen said over her shoulder to Anna, as Ellie pulled her away. "I've got a surprise for you!"

"Uh-oh!" Said Anna, mock concern on her face "should I be worried?"

"No!" Gwen laughed. "If anyone should be worried it's me!"

Anna chuckled as her friend walked away, shaking her head and taking a seat beside John once more.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you know what that was about?"

"I think I've an idea," admitted Anna, "but we'll just have to see, won't we?" She grinned at him.

Just then, the emcee announced the first dance was about to start, and they both turned to focus on the dance floor. "Do you know what they're doing for the father daughter dance?" John asked idly.

Anna nodded, turning to him "Gwen with her mum, and Ellie with Gwen's dad. It'll be sweet. Gwen's parents love Ellie."

Just then, they were interrupted by the music starting.

"Well, that was lovely, wasn't it?" Anna turned to him after both dances were over. "It was," he agreed.

Just then they were interrupted once more by Gwen taking the mic, a mischievous smile on her face. "We've had a dance for love, and a dance for family, so before we open it up, we're going to round it out with friendship," she grinned in their direction. "Anna!" She called, as the first strains of a big band number started to play over the stereo system.

"Well, that's my cue," Anna grinned at him as she got up, placing her clutch on the table in front of him. "Watch that, will you?"

He nodded, although her purse wasn't what he was most interested in watching. His eyes were on her as she stepped quickly up to meet Gwen, and he watched appreciatively as the two of them started dancing a lively swing number. Clearly, this was something they'd done before, although to his untrained eye Anna looked to be the more skilled of the two, he thought as he watched Gwen spin Anna, her skirt flaring out and her face filled with laughter.

A few minutes later, she was falling back into her seat beside him, flushed and breathless, but grinning.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" He remarked.

"I don't know about full of, but I suppose I've got a trick or two up my sleeve," she replied, laughing. "I dragged Gwen to swing classes in Uni," she explained.

"You're very good,"

Anna shook her head. "Not really. But dancing with Gwen is fun."

They sat for a few more minutes, watching as the dance floor began to fill up, and talking aimlessly. John wondered if she would ask him to dance again. He wondered if she would even want to, or if _he_ should ask her. Before he was able to make a decision, however, the other girls at their table, the ones Anna knew a little, decided to take to the floor, asking her to join them. She agreed eagerly, although John was touched, and more than a little pleased that she turned to him before she left. "I'm sorry to abandon you. Do you mind? I'd ask you to join, but I have a feeling you wouldn't want to . ." she smiled.  
>"You're probably right there," he allowed, although truth be told, he wouldn't mind dancing half as much if it were with her. "You go, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm an observer."<p>

John spent the next several songs with his eyes trained towards the dance floor, trying not to stare. Well, trying not to stare blatantly, at least. He did miss Anna's conversation, but watching her dance was, undeniably, almost as enjoyable.

Despite not having spoken to the girls around her for the better part of eight years, Anna was enjoying herself out on the floor. She always did when she was dancing, no matter who she was with. Oddly though, she found herself half-wishing she'd be joined by one particular partner, though she knew she wouldn't. She felt rather silly, realizing that. After all, she really barely even knew John, didn't she? But she couldn't deny there was something there. There was something about him that drew her. He was attentive, perhaps that was it. Endearingly considerate, but also respectful. _Thoughtful as well_, she mused. And interesting. She shook her head. _Get a grip, Anna. _She almost felt relieved however, when the girls dispersed, some going to the bar for another drink, a few more partnering off, and she had an excuse to go sit by John once more. He did seem happy to see her, although she forcefully beat down the part of her that wanted to read something more into it.

Before long, however, they were interrupted by a shadow falling over them, and she looked up. "Care to dance?" a man about her age in a dark grey suit, whom she was fairly certain was a cousin of Gwen's, was standing over her, holding out his hand. She was tempted to say no, but she wondered at how it would look, John being well aware that she loved dancing. It was a good song, anyways. "Alright then," she said, but rose under her own steam instead of taking the hand he was offering. That didn't stop him from putting his hands on her waist as soon as they reached the floor, pulling her close. She attempted to back away and win a little more distance, but he stepped with her.

"I saw you out on the floor earlier, with Gwen," he remarked, leering at her. "Veeery nice moves." she felt his breath hot in her ear, and as she jerked her head away from him, still caught in his arms, was very glad that the song wasn't a particularly long one. He seemed to have given up on conversation and instead was staring openly at her chest. She was glad she hadn't worn a low cut dress that evening. Just then, his hands suddenly drifted far lower than they had been, grabbing.

She stiffened immediately, stepping backwards and removing his hands forcefully with her own. "hey, don't be like that," he drawled, attempting to touch her cheek.

She swatted it away. "piss off," she hissed as she turned and strode, shaking a little, towards her table.

John was pleased but surprised to see Anna coming back to sit next to him, when the song that had been playing had barely finished. "Back so soon?" he joked. "did you miss me?"

She didn't respond, and he looked to her face, wondering why, only to realize how agitated she looked.

"Anna, are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow, silently questioning that.

"Well, I will be in a moment," she conceded. "It turns out he," she jerked her head in the direction of the dancing, "didn't have the most . . gentlemanly of intentions. I'm a little shaken is all."

John, getting her meaning, was angry on her behalf, perhaps more than he should be. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she assured him, "I don't hold you responsible for the misdemeanors of all mankind." she flashed him a weak grin.

John looked around, casting about for some topic of conversation to take her mind off of what had happened. For some reason, he found himself looking at their feet. "You know, I think you're the only girl here still in heels," he joked, nodding towards her cream and grey, laced-up shoes. "Impressive."

She shrugged. "Well, I did make a fairly sensible choice."

"Is that what we'd call sensible?" he chuckled.

"Well, perhaps not," she allowed, smiling herself now. "But more sensible than what most people wore," she nodded in the direction of a pair of four-inch pumps abandoned on the chair beside her. "Besides, she continued. You forget I used to dance swing. Women have to dance in heels in swing competitions."

"You and Gwen did competitions?" he asked, impressed.

A shadow passed over her face then. "Not me and Gwen, no. I started dancing with my instructor after a couple years," she explained. "I had a knack for it, I guess." She looked down at the table, seemingly lost in thought. And not happy ones at that, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I've made you sad."

"No you haven't," she assured him, trying to give him a smile. "Someone else made me sad. I've just been reminded of it," she elaborated cryptically.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, until John surprised Anna by asking if she'd like to dance. "You don't like to dance" she pointed out, and then wondered why she'd said it.

"I wouldn't say I don't like it, I'm just not particularly good at it. But, I've made you sad- no," he held up a hand, seeing she was about to protest that, "I've said something that made you think of something that's making you sad, and I feel badly. Now, I won't claim to know you that well, but I do know that every time I've seen you dance, you've been smiling." Anna was touched.

"Thank you. I don't think I can refuse that offer," she said, taking the hand he offered to help her out of her chair.

"I'm glad," he smiled. "Besides, I even know this song."

"Really?" she cocked an eyebrow at him as they fell into step, headed for the floor. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a Sinatra fan."

"I'm not, really," he allowed. "But my mum is, so I know most of his catalogue."

As they danced, John noticed there was still sadness behind her eyes, and he desperately wanted to remove it. Whether it was the spell of Anna, or the couple scotch-and-sodas he'd consumed that compelled him, he wasn't sure, but he started singing along with Sinatra, catching her gaze as he did. "Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away."  
>She giggled. "very nice."<p>

The song ended, they walked off the floor together. "Thank you for that," she said, looking up at him. "really."

"My pleasure," he replied. "I really don't mind dancing a few more, if you'd like."

She smiled at his offer. _God, he's sweet._ "Thank you, but no. I think I'm going to turn in, actually."

"I think it's about that time for me too. Would you like a walk to your room?"

"Thank you, that would be lovely."

As they walked down the corridor where John was staying, he realized something. "I've just remembered, I forgot to ask what room you're in"

"Oh, hadn't you? I'm just here," she gestured at the door just a few feet away from them.

"Really?" he looked at her, surprised. "I'm just across the hall." he pointed.

They'd arrived at her door now. "Thank you, John, for tonight." Anna looked up at him, serious. "I appreciate you trying to cheer me up."

"You're welcome," he told her again. "And thank you. I had a lovely evening. Shall we agree to meet at breakfast then, say 9:30, and we can work out when we're leaving?"

She nodded. "Sounds good. Goodnight," and with that, she slipped into her room.

* * *

><p>As Anna let down her hair, she realized that sleep was not going to come easily that night. She moved to her shoulder bag, fruitlessly looking for her sketchbook, although she knew she hadn't brought it. That was no good. First that pushy man, and then her conversation with John, had brought Vince, unwelcomed, into her mind. As the years had put distance between them, she'd managed to become more and more free of him, but he would still pop into her mind from time to time, and when he did it was hard to shake. Drawing always helped, but she didn't have that distraction tonight.<p>

John was surprised to hear a knock on his door. He hadn't been quite ready for sleep yet, and so had been sitting on top of his bed, reading for the umpteenth time his battered and beloved copy of _the Hobbit_. He opened it and was even more surprised to find Anna there, clad in a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, her hair tumbled about her shoulders. She looked upset again.

"Anna, is there something I can do?"

"I couldn't sleep," she looked anxious. "I was wondering - if you weren't going to bed yet, that is - if I could trouble you for some company?"

"Of course," he said, ushering her in.

He took the chair opposite the one she'd settled in, waiting for her to speak, wanting her to feel comfortable.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm acting like this,"

"I am," he said, carefully, "but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She seemed surprised by this. "Thank you. I think I'd like to, though."

"Then please do."

"Remember the dance instructor I mentioned?" she started. He nodded. "His name was Vince. Well, we became . . involved. We dated for quite a while. He . . .wasn't very nice."

"I'm sorry, Anna." John tried to convey as much support as he possibly could into those three words.

"Thank you." she said softly. "It was a while ago. But, thinking of him still makes me upset. I needed a distraction."

"Understandably." he told her. "Would you like some tea, perhaps? I think I saw some chamomile here earlier." He rummaged in the basket by the kettle, not waiting for her answer.

"that would be nice, thank you," she replied gratefully.

"Here it is" he held up the packet triumphantly, and then went to fill up the kettle.

Waiting somewhat awkwardly for the water to boil, he looked around himself, and noticed Anna's arms, wrapped around her torso, were covered in goosebumps. "Anna, you're freezing! I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's not your fault. I should have put on a sweater."

"Still, it makes me a rather poor host."

She almost laughed at that. "I am the one who barged into your room," she pointed out.

"True," he allowed. "Still, I think I've got a sweater here you can borrow." He rummaged in his bag for a moment before pulling out the worn but wonderfully soft black crewneck from his reporting days, emblazoned with the BBC logo.

"Thank you," she pulled it over her head gratefully. "You're too kind to me."

"Nonsense." he set the steaming cup of tea down in front of her.

Silence descended once more, Anna not seeming exactly up for conversation, but the faraway look on her face troubled John. The distraction didn't seem to be very distracting. He had an idea.

"Anna," he began, hesitantly "I wonder, only you said you wanted a distraction . ."

Anna nodded, and John got up, walking to pick up the paperback from his nightstand. "would you like me to read to you?" He felt awkward. It was a strange offer, but it was a strange situation.

Thankfully, she didn't seem taken aback. "That would be perfect, actually."

He settled into his chair, opening the tattered volume.

"John?"

"yes?"

"Thank you."

In response, he started to read, the magical words of JJR Tolkein filling the room.

John was about twenty pages in when he looked up to find Anna asleep in the chair, head lolling on her shoulder. He considered what to do. He didn't want to wake her, but to leave her there would be too strange. Then he noticed that her key card was not in her pocket, but left out on the table. Checking to make sure his own card was in his pocket, he approached her softly. Gingerly, as if she were a house of cards threatening to tumble at the slightest of wrong moves, he picked her up. Taking her key card in the hand that wasn't bearing the majority of her weight, he carried her to her room, glad to find she seemed to have turned back the covers before deciding she wasn't able to sleep. He tucked her in gently and deposited the key card on the table beside her, before turning off the light and leaving, the door locking with a soft click behind him.

* * *

><p>Anna awoke, groggy and disoriented, to a soft knocking on her door. Throwing off the blankets, she realized she was still wearing John's BBC sweatshirt. She remembered John starting to read <em>the Hobbit<em> to her, and feeling drowsy, lost in the words, but she didn't remember walking back to her room. She pulled open the door to find John standing there, dressed for the day, a paper cup of coffee in his hand, and looking considerably more awake than she felt.

"I'm sorry if I woke you, but I didn't want you to miss breakfast," he explained.

Anna looked down at her watch and with a shock realized it was nearly ten. "Oh my. I must have forgotten to set an alarm. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," John smiled. "Oh, I nearly forgot. I thought this might soften the blow, if I did have to wake you up" he held the coffee out to her.

She took it, giving him a grin of her own. "Thank you."

John was back in the dining room, partaking in his second cup of coffee of the day when Anna came down fifteen minutes later, looking rested and cheerful, and more casual than he'd ever seen her, in worn jeans and an open flannel shirt with a charcoal grey tank top underneath, her hair loosely braided. "Good morning," she smiled, setting down her plate of toast and eggs.

She ate in silence for a few minutes, then looked up. "Did I fall asleep in your room last night?"

"Yes," John admitted, somewhat uncomfortably. "I hated to wake you, when you'd said you were having such trouble getting to sleep, so I carried you to your room. I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind."

She shook her head. "I don't. That was very considerate, thank you. And for the tea, and reading to me. It's one of the nicest things anyone's done for me," she said softly.

"Then people haven't been nearly nice enough to you." John had meant for it to be a joke, but it didn't come out as one.

* * *

><p>Back in her flat that evening, Anna unpacked her weekend bag, and was surprised to find the black sweatshirt there, realizing she'd forgotten to return it to John. She went to put it with her laundry, meaning to wash it as soon as possible and return it, but then she stopped, and instead pulled the soft material on over her head. Her unpacking done, she fixed herself a cup of tea and padded down the hall in her sock feet to her little living room, he eyes scanning her bookcase. She found the volume she was looking for and curled up in her favourite chair, opening it.<p>

_Chapter 1. An Unexpected Party._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, there you have it! Anna's definitely got a bit of a crush as well, and in this version, John's not the only one with a bit of baggage. (Yes, you will find out more about Vince later, but you'll find out more or less at the same rate as John)  
>I hope you enjoyed(I'm certainly having fun writing these two), and as usual, I'd love to hear what you think!<p>

Also, for anyone not familiar with the work of JRR Tolkien, "An Unexpected Party" is the first chapter of The Hobbit ;)


	4. The Art of Appreciation

**A/N: **Hello lovely readers! Thanks again for the sweet reviews on my last chapter, I'm so glad you're all enjoying it, and you're liking the way I've written John. I've worried a bit about him being out of character as he's quite chatty to Anna, but I've a feeling canon Bates would have more to say if we got Banna scenes that were more than three minutes long :) Anyways, here's the fourth instalment, enjoy! :)

(Warning for some coarse language)

* * *

><p>John sat at his desk mid-morning Tuesday, struggling to focus on his work, and wondering if it was acceptably late to take a coffee break. He heard a soft knocking on his cubicle wall and looked up, glad of the distraction, to see Anna. She was wearing a grey dress and a smile, and holding a paper cup of coffee in each hand, a canvas tote bag over her shoulder. "Hello,"<p>

"Hello,"

"I'm sorry," she began, setting the cups down on his desk and pulling her bag off her shoulder, reaching inside. "I realized once I'd got home that I'd forgotten to return this to you. I didn't give it to you yesterday because I wanted to wash it first," she explained, producing his sweatshirt from the bag and handing it to him.

"You didn't have to do that,"

"It was the least I could do," she smiled.

"Well, thank you."

"No, thank you. Oh!" She exclaimed, remembering. "I thought I'd return your favour of Sunday morning," she handed him one of the coffee cups she'd been carrying.

"Thank you," John managed. He was touched, not to mention quite pleased.

"It was the least I could do," she repeated, blushing a little

"I thought washing my sweater was the least you could do?" He grinned, and she had to laugh at that.

"Well, regardless, I wanted to thank you." She said, suddenly more serious.

"I was glad to be able to help," he replied simply. They seemed at an impasse then, neither knowing what to say, but Anna not seeming to want to leave. "I don't suppose you'd like to join me for coffee?" He asked, trying to seem like he didn't really mind either way as he gestured toward her with his cup.

"I would," she began "but you've only got one chair, Mr. Bates." Anna pointed out, grinning.

A moment later, however, she spoke again. "I do rather think I fancy a walk, though, if you've a mind to join me."

"Sounds lovely," John picked up his coat from the back of his chair and fell into step beside her.

* * *

><p>"John, she's there!" Tom grabbed his arm, pointing. In his few months at Grantham, John had struck up a solid acquaintanceship with the young IT man, who had just then been talking his ear off about Sybil, the Crawley's youngest daughter. He'd met her at Halloween, and he was besotted.<p>

John found the table Tom was indicating with his eyes, and his heart seemed to immediately kick up a notch at who he saw there. "You mean with Anna and Mary?" He asked, never having met Sybil, but assuming that the laughing young brunette beside Anna was she.

"Anna? Asked Tom. "The blond one? You know her?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes- Well, I suppose. We're friendly, at least." John stammered a bit.

"Excellent!" Tom grinned at him. "You can introduce me then!"

"To Anna?" John asked, confused.

"No, to Sybil of course."

"But I don't know Sybil," John pointed out. "Besides, I thought you'd met her already?"

"Not introduce me, then," Tom huffed. "Give me an in. Just go over there, say hi to Anna, and I'll do the rest," he assured John with (what was meant to be) a winning smile, pushing John in the direction of the girls' table.

Feeling he had no choice, John walked towards them, incredibly nervous. Walking up to the girl he fancied in the cafeteria at work and saying hello to her might be Tom Branson's _modus operandi_, but it certainly wasn't John's. He was almost to the table, desperately thinking of what to say and how to seem casual, when he was saved by Anna looking up and spotting him.

"Hello John," _God, that smile. _

"Hello, Anna, Mary," he nodded to the eldest Crawley, and then looked to Sybil, acting as if he didn't know her name.

"Sybil Crawley." Anna supplied. "Sybil, this is John Bates, who works in Editing, and . . ." She looked to Tom, waiting for John to fill her in.

"Tom Branson, in IT. Tom, this is Anna, and Sybil. You know Mary, I believe."

Mary nodded, looking Tom over cooly. "He does."

"You'd be welcome to join us, if you'd like" Anna indicated the trays John and Tom were both holding. Mary couldn't help but notice she looked directly at John as she said it. _He'd be welcome,_ _would he? _This was interesting.

Tom elbowed him in the back, but it hadn't been as if he could've refused anyways. "Thank you,"

He took the seat opposite Anna, cringing a little as Tom rounded the table to claim the chair beside Sybil rather than take the one adjacent to John, which had been right in front of him. _That wasn't obvious at all. _

"So John," Anna focussed her attentions on him again. "Perhaps you can help back us up. Sybil and I have been trying to convince Mary that we need a little more culture in our lives."

"And I've told them," Mary broke in, not giving John a chance to reply, "that I work at a publishing house. I've got plenty of culture, thank you very much."

"Yes," Anna reasoned good-naturedly, "but we live in such a vibrant city, and we never take advantage of what it has to offer. Museums, theatre, exhibitions. I just think we ought to broaden our horizons. What do you say, John?"

"I'd agree with you there. I think most of us don't take enough advantage of what London has to offer. Like that exhibit you were mentioning on Friday, Anna. The one about pre-war art?"

"What was Friday?" Mary broke in, suddenly much more interested.

"Anna had some car trouble," John saved her trying to answer Mary. "And I ran into her in the parking lot. It transpired we were both going to York for the weekend, so I gave her a lift."

"Is that so?" Mary looked at Anna significantly.

"Like I was saying, that exhibit John mentioned, it's exactly the kind of thing we don't take advantage of," Anna hastily tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

"Anna's right," Sybil agreed. "What say you, Mary? We can make an afternoon of it. Next Saturday? Matthew will come, of course, and Tom and John." She grinned, knowing full well that she was one of the only people Mary had trouble saying no to.

"If it will get you to stop, then fine," Mary rolled her eyes.

* * *

><p>Anna was deep in concentration, working to put the finishing touches on a book cover, when she felt her desk suddenly tilt a little. Looking up, she wasn't at all surprised to see her best friend, perched on the corner. "Should you be setting an example of such flagrant disregard for company property, Ms. Human Resources?" She asked dryly. She did love Mary, but she also knew why she was here, and she wasn't exceptionally excited about it.<p>

"I'm a Crawley." Mary waved her hand grandly. "I can do whatever I want."

With a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, Anna looked back up at her friend. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mary?"

"Let's go out to dinner tonight, just you and I? We haven't had proper girl time in a bit"

Anna just looked at Mary, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" She defended herself, "am I not allowed to want to spend time with my best friend?"

"You are," Anna allowed, "but you generally don't last-minute on a Friday night. Besides, don't you have plans with Matthew?"

Mary thought about that for a second. "Damn. You're right. Coffee, then? Right after work?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was busy?" Anna asked optimistically.

"Nope." Mary grinned. "I'll meet you out front at five, darling."

* * *

><p>They sat in Anna's favourite Cafe close to Downton Towers, the building where the Grantham offices were, chatting about this and that for a few moments after receiving their drinks.<p>

"So," Mary put her cup down and looked Anna in the eye. "You and John Bates looked quite cozy today at lunch." She remarked casually.

"I don't know how we're supposed to have managed that, sitting across from each other in the work canteen" Anna quipped.

"You know what I mean,"

"I'm sure I don't," Anna tried and failed to look the picture of innocence.

"Come on, darling. It's clear the man fancies you. Question of the hour is, how do you feel?"

That stopped Anna short. "He fancies me?" It slipped out before she could stop herself.

"And there's my answer," Mary grinned, looking very satisfied with herself.

"That was a question, not an answer," Anna retorted. "I can be curious, can't I?"

"You can be," Mary acknowledged. "But you were excited, darling, not curious."

"That's your opinion," Anna huffed.

"It is," Mary grinned. "But I'll promise to take your word for it if you'll tell me about this carpool"

"It's like he said," Anna began, "Emma broke down in the parking lot-"

"Again? I don't see why you don't replace it, Anna. You make enough."

Anna shrugged. "Emma and I have been through a lot together. She'll be fine with a tune-up. Do you want to know what happened or not?" She huffed.

"Yes, of course. My apologies to Emma." Mary smoothed it over quickly.

"Emma broke down in the parking lot," Anna repeated, "John found me and offered to help, we realized we were both going to York, and he offered me a lift." She shrugged.

"And that was it?" Mary replied, skeptical.

"Yes,"

"You're a terrible liar, Anna, you know that?"

"I am not" she retorted.

Mary grinned. "I knew you were lying." _crap._

"On the way down to York we realized we were both going to Gwen and Ellie's wedding. John and Ellie are old friends, it turns out."

"Well, well."

"It turned out we were seated together, so we talked a bit, I suppose. He's nice," she shrugged again. "very kind."

Anna immediately regretted adding that, as Mary zeroed in on the last word. "Kind how?"

"If you must know, I was feeling a little blue, and he cheered me up."

Mary just sat there, knowing that Anna would continue if she was silent long enough.

Anna sighed. "Some bloke asked me to dance, and so I did, but he was. . . a bit handsy. Pushy. I was just shaken up when I got back, and John tried to distract me. But we got onto the topic of swing, because Gwen and I had danced a number earlier. . ." Anna petered out then, and Mary reached over to put a protective hand over her friends. "And well, you know. It got me thinking about things that aren't especially sunny." She offered Mary a weak smile.

"I'm sorry, Anna."

"He could tell I was upset. He didn't push, but for some reason I felt like telling him why." Anna glossed over the evening, deciding not to give Mary even more ammunition by telling of her and John's dance, and his reading to her.

Mary looked shocked. "You told him about Vince?"

"Well, not really. Only that I'd dated my swing instructor after we'd started doing competitions together, and what his name was, and that he wasn't very nice."

"You told him about Vince?" Mary repeated, still seeming shocked.

"Yes," Anna almost snapped. "Since when aren't I allowed to?"

"Of course you're allowed to," Mary said "but the point is, you don't. You've never told anyone about Vince, besides me and Elsie Hughes, have you? You didn't even really tell Elsie, she figured it out, didn't she? And I'm your best friend. Doesn't your dad not even know? Didn't you just tell Gwen that you wanted different things, that's why you broke it off?"

"Yes," Anna admitted. "You think it was wrong of me to tell him then?"

Mary shook her head vehemently. "No, Anna. In fact, I'm glad you're able to talk about it more. It's just out of character for you to talk about it so openly, especially to someone who you don't really know."

"I know. . ." Anna admitted. "It felt strange. But I trusted him, I suppose." That in and of itself was strange, Anna realized as she said it. As a rule, Anna Smith was welcoming and friendly, but truly open, about the things that mattered, with very few people. It usually took a lot to gain her confidence. "Like I said, he's kind." She asserted, "We're friends." She wasn't sure if it was Mary, or herself, that she was trying to convince.

* * *

><p>"Papa?" Sybil and Edith were both out, her mother was asleep and she and her father were both reading in the den when Mary decided to venture her question.<p>

"Yes darling?"

"You know John Bates well, don't you?"

"Pretty well, I'd say." Robert agreed. "We were covering the war together for quite a time, although I hadn't really heard from him for a while until he'd applied to Grantham." When Mary and her sisters were younger, Robert had been a journalist, working abroad for a time until his father died and he came home to take over the running of the publishing house.

"Would you say he's a good bloke?"

"Yes," Robert agreed without hesitation. "Probably one of the finest I know."

"What's he like with women?" Mary ventured.

"I'm not sure. . ." Robert allowed. "I know him and Vera didn't get on well, but I've met her and she's a nasty piece of work. Covering the war shook him up a fair bit, and he wasn't the same for a while after. But like I said, he's a good sort. Why do you ask?" Robert only then seemed to realize that his daughter's line of questioning was a little off.

"You do know you're engaged, Mary?"

Mary laughed. "I'm not asking for me, Papa"

"Who then?"

"It doesn't matter," she assured him, rising to kiss him on the cheek before heading to bed.

Mary could seem cold and callous, that she knew, and truth be told it was often a valid assessment. But there were a few people to whom she was fiercely loyal. Her father, particularly. Matthew, of course. And Anna. Usually, Anna was Mary's rock, keeping her in check, helping mend her messes, and at once keeping her grounded and believing her to be a better person than most did. But Mary knew her friend was a lot less bulletproof than she let on. She was excited about this new development. Even if Anna wouldn't admit it, Mary knew her best friend well enough to tell that she was smitten. Mary felt it would be good for her friend to try and start again, it had been years now since Vince, but Anna had barely gone on a single date. She just hoped that John Bates would prove worthy. _Or he'll have me to answer to._

* * *

><p>If Anna hadn't known it before, the number of outfits strewn across her bed confirmed it. There was a very high likelihood that she felt something other than friendship for John Bates. She was generally not someone who cared much about her appearance. She did like to look nice, but only because it made her feel good. She rarely thought about how others would perceive her. Today was different.<p>

In the end, she settled on the goldenrod linen skirt, A-line and twirly, with the tie-neck blouse printed with a quirky pattern of Yorkshire Terriers. After much debate, she left her hair down, because she wore it up all week. She'd just begun lacing up a pair of high vintage leather boots when the bell rang and she hurried to answer it. Mary was always cranky if left waiting.

"You look nice," she remarked, but it was more of a challenge than a compliment.

_Is that a crime?_ Anna bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. "Thank you, Mary."

They set off together, the Crawleys having decided to drop their car at Anna's and all take the tube over to the museum together. As they emerged back onto the crowded London sidewalk after a short train ride, Sybil's infectious excitement took over as she linked her arms through Anna's on one side and Mary's on the other, chattering about this and that.

* * *

><p>John was standing nervously outside the gallery, with an equally antsy Tom beside him, scarves knotted tightly about their throats against the bracing wind. "Thanks again for coming, mate." Tom glanced at his friend before reverting his gaze back to the sidewalk, waiting for the girls to appear.<p>

"Not a problem, Tom," John was allowing Tom to continue thinking he was purely there as a wingman, rather than for much more self-indulgent reasons. Reasons that were just now rounding the corner, laughing at something the youngest Crawley had just said.

"John," Tom turned to him, suddenly anxious. "Do you reckon I should pay for her ticket?"

"I think not, mate. Don't want to come on too strong." he clapped his friend on the back. It was a small comfort to John that he had slightly more sense than Tom Branson.

* * *

><p>"Now, how they've set up the exhibit is very interesting," Anna started excitedly as they entered the first room, "because it's laid out to show both the evolution of styles, as well as the exchange that was happening between artists-"<p>

"Really Anna, could you lay off the professor act?" Mary said dryly "It's enough I've been dragged to a museum on a Saturday, I'd rather not be lectured as well."

Anna didn't respond except to stop talking, and fell back to read the introduction on the wall, as Sybil, Mary, Matthew and Tom carried on into the first room.

"Are you alright, Mary?" Matthew pulled her away from the others a little.

"I'm marvellous Matthew, why?"

"Well, you're being nastier than usual today, darling."

Mary laughed. "I'm not being nasty, dear. I'm just testing a theory."

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"I want to see if Bates will take the bait," she explained, glancing behind him at where Anna and John were standing a few feet apart, both reading the introduction on the gallery wall.

"What were you going to say about the exchange between artists, Anna?" John ventured as they both finished reading and started to move towards the first room of paintings.

"Oh, don't worry about that," she smiled. "Mary was right, you don't need to be bored by my lecturing."

"Nonsense. I'd like to hear it," he insisted. "I can't believe my appreciation wouldn't be enhanced by your insights. If you don't mind, that is."

"I'm happy to," she assured him, "as long as you promise you're not just saying that to be nice."

"Cross my heart," he said solemnly, and was rewarded with a laugh.

"Well, it's interesting because it pays attention to the exchange of influence that was occurring between artists in Germany and artists in France at the time. . ."

"See?" Mary nudged Matthew with her elbow, indicating he should look behind them. He followed her eyes, and sure enough, Anna was standing in front of a painting, talking animatedly while John looked on, seemingly absorbed in what she was saying.

He shook his head, grinning despite himself.

* * *

><p>Anna was in her element. She loved being able to share the things that she was passionate about, but most people's reactions were on the line with Mary's. John, however, had spent the last two hours hanging on her every word as she talked about colour and brushstroke and shifting subject matter, seeming genuinely interested in what she had to say. They were stopped in front of a Picasso when Mary, Sybil and the boys, who had long since gone ahead of them, appeared beside them. "We're done, Anna," Mary announced. "Are you going to stay?"<p>

"Well," Anna began, trailing off and looking at John.

"I would like to finish the exhibit, if you would,"

"I think we'll stay then, Mary."

"Suit yourself, I'll see you on Monday darling," Mary turned to go, waving at them over her shoulder.

Once they were out of earshot, Mary pulled Matthew aside by the sleeve of his jacket. "See?" She whispered in his ear "I was right,"

"Maybe," he allowed. "But remember darling, it's Anna's life,"

* * *

><p>They had finished going through the exhibition and were now slowing making there way back to the exit, Anna pausing frequently to examine a painting again, or more closely. He would wander the room waiting for her, not quite able to match her raptured appreciation for the works, as much as he admired it. He looked back to see her still gazing intently at the same section she had been several minutes ago.<p>

"The pointilists are some of your favourites, aren't they?"

"Oh!" she jumped a little. "I'm sorry, you startled me," she laughed. "My favourites? I suppose, in a way. They're not the most passionate, or the most interesting," Anna mused, "Although they did make some technical advances. But in terms of pure visual appeal, yes, I'd say in my books very little beats the pointilists," she turned to smile at him. "The Signacs are lovely," she gestured to her left at some pastel scenes with castles and lakes, "But I like this Rysselberghe best," she indicated the brilliantly-coloured sunset scene before her.

They were interrupted them by a guard politely telling them the gallery was closing in fifteen minutes. "My goodness!" exclaimed Anna, "I'm sorry, I've kept you here so long. Thank you for waiting for me."

"It was my pleasure," he assured her as they exited the special exhibitions area and made their way back to the main foyer.

* * *

><p>John Bates was not generally a man to daydream, but he was lost in thoughts as he rode the tube home and made his way up the steps to his flat. Thoughts that were, of course, all about a certain graphic designer with a smile like springtime and a Yorkshire lilt in her voice. He was broken out of his reverie when he unlocked his flat and promptly tripped over the heavy cardboard box in his entryway, barely catching himself in time "bloody hell!"<p>

And that was all he needed to bring himself back to reality. They were, of course, Vera's boxes, and Vera had been haunting his thoughts of late. He was falling for Anna, that was undeniable. But he couldn't quite dismiss the niggling thought at the back of his mind that this was perhaps all too quick. He'd split with Vera for good just over a month ago after five years together(albeit very off-and-on for the last three). He knew he was well over her, but still, he didn't want to feel like Anna was a, rebound, of some sort. She was much too good for that. Probably, he knew, she was too good for him at all, but he meant to give it a shot, and when he did, he didn't want to muck it up. But how long was long enough, he wondered?

He looked back to the boxes, sitting there stubbornly still, and made a decision. He would feel free to move on once Vera was well and truly out of his life for good, which would be when he had his spare key back, and these bloody boxes out of his hallway. Feeling a little lighter for having made the decision, he made for his little study to compose (yet another) email asking his ex to please come get her belongings.

* * *

><p>Anna sat on her sofa, cradling a mug of herbal tea, and thinking. Ostensibly, she was watching telly, but she couldn't have even told you what was on. Instead, she was thinking about the afternoon she'd just had and the fact that, loathe as she was to admit it, Mary had been right. She couldn't seem to get John Bates out of her mind since she'd said goodbye to him on the steps of the National Gallery several hours earlier.<p>

It was a bit of a foreign feeling to Anna. Ever since she'd split with Vince, years ago now, she'd focussed on rebuilding herself first, then on completing her Master's, and after that, she'd thrown herself into her new job. Part of her had known she'd been avoiding dating, but she'd always told herself (and Mary) that she didn't have time for it, that was all. Then she'd met John, and it had taken her quite by surprise. It hadn't been at-first-sight, like it would be if she were in a film, she thought. Truth be told, she hadn't given him much of a second thought after the Halloween party. But then a series of coincidences kept putting them in each other's paths, and she began to notice all the small things there were to appreciate about him, all the small things that made him quite unlike any other man she'd ever met.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Foreshadowing? What's foreshadowing? ;)

Well, there you have chapter four, I hope you enjoyed!  
>I've been pleased with how quickly I've been managing to update so far (I have this story all planned out in my head and I'm just eager to get it onto paper!), but just a heads up that the next chapter might be a little longer in arriving, because I've got the start of a one-shot I want to write in reaction to my being pissed off at how the end of 5.8 turned out :P (so check my author page in the nest few days if you're also not all-too-pleased with canon at the moment)<p>

And as always, reviews make me smile :)


	5. Coincidences

**A/N: **Hello lovely folks! Thanks again for your feedback on my last chapter. I'm so glad you're still enjoying it. This chapter's a bit shorter than the last few have been. Originally I was going to put more into it, but I decided to split it up because it felt like if I took it to where it was originally going to end it would've felt a little squished. It was also a little slower going than usual, because I'm working on that one-shot I mentioned at the same time (When I feel like seriousness and angst I write it, when I feel like cuteness and holiday cheer and meddling Mary I write this :) ), and I wanted to give you something. That said, I'm interested in input. What do you prefer, shorter chapters slightly more often, or longer chapters slightly less often? If you feel strongly either way or the other, let me know! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mary sighed upon seeing the pile awaiting her on her desk as she arrived at work that morning. Was it that time already? She checked her phone. The first of December. So it was.<p>

As always, the stack of envelopes with the sheets of labels waiting to be stuck on and the pages of names, waiting to be cut apart and stuffed inside, were accompanied by a note in the head of HR's perfect cursive.

_Mary,_

_Here's your half for the gift exchange. I'll be sending out a memo at 4 o clock that they are in the employees' mailboxes, so please ensure they are._

_Elsie._

It was a tedious chore, and Mary hated tedious. Every December, the employees of Grantham House participated in a Secret Santa exchange, and every year Mary had the joy of assigning half the names. Elsie Hughes always split the lists between herself and her assistant, to ensure that they would be surprised as well. The task was also accompanied by a memo reminding her not to put this person with that person, and that so-and-so needed such-and-such. It was frightfully boring. She picked up her lists and perused them, seeing who she'd been delegated this year. Her eyes lit upon two names in particular. _Hmm_, she thought, _this might not be all bad_.

She'd been at it for almost an hour (it did take longer than one might think, although she also was not the mostly dedicated to the task) when she looked up to a knock on her door. "Hello, darling,"

"Matthew!" She rose to kiss him before returning to her desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well I knew it was Secret Santa day, and I know how you hate it, so I thought I'd see how you're getting on and bring something to brighten your day a bit," he handed her a takeaway coffee cup, which she brought to her nose, inhaling.

"Peppermint mocha," he supplied with a smile, "or in your words, 'one of the only good things about this bloody season'."

"You're a treasure," she smiled at her fiancé.

"I must say though," he came to perch precariously on the arm of her desk chair, looking over her shoulder at her work. "You seem more cheerful than you usually are on December first"

"Am I?" She asked, the picture of innocence. "It must just be that I'm glad to see you, darling."

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow. "I was wondering if it had anything to do with what you're planning of putting in this envelope," he said, tapping the label that read 'John Bates'.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Matthew,"

"Really? So you won't mind if I take this," he picked the slip of paper with "Anna Smith" on it, "and put it in here?" He selected an envelope from the pile at random, dropping the name inside.

"Of course not," she shrugged.

"Really? So when I leave, it would be fine if I dropped this off on my way back to my desk?" He dangled the envelope in front of her.

"Oh fine," she snatched the envelope from him irritably, shaking out the slip of paper and fitting it into John's envelope. "What's the harm in it Matthew? It doesn't have to mean anything if he doesn't want it to"

"Anna knows you assign the names" Matthew pointed out. "Will she be happy with your meddling?"

"Anna knows I assign half the names." Mary huffed. "And it's not meddling. It's. . . arranging a lucky coincidence. Don't you have work to do, Matthew?"

"I do," Matthew chuckled, shaking his head. "I love you darling, but" he kissed her forehead before turning to leave "be careful"

* * *

><p><em>From: <span>E. Hughes<span>_

_To: M. Ahmed, L. Anderson, J. Arlington, T. Barrow, J. Bates, T. Branson, C. Carson . . . And 57 more._

_Subject: **Holiday Gift Exchange**_

_Dear Employees,_

_You will find in your mailboxes your assigned recipients for our annual holiday gift exchange. Please remember that gifts should be worth approximately 20£, and must be left, wrapped and with the recipients name attached, in the conference room on the third floor by the day before the holiday party._

_Thank you,_

_Elsie Hughes_

_Head of Human Resources._

Anna smiled. She loved the holiday gift exchange. She finished up her work for the day quickly, eager to go down and check her mailbox.

The elevator paused on the floor below hers, and in stepped John Bates. "Hello," she smiled. Beyond greeting each other as they passed in the halls a few times, she hadn't seen him since the gallery visit.

"How do you do?" He tipped his cap at her in a way that was endearingly formal and old-fashioned.

"Well, thank you. I love Christmastime, I'll admit it," she said. "I know a lot of people find it gaudy and tiring, and perhaps it is over-commercialized . . . But it's also rather magical, isn't it?"

John smiled. That was very Anna, he mused. Opting to be cheerful rather than grumpy, to find joy wherever it might be.

"It is," he smiled.

He was surprised then, when she made to get out on the second floor. She seemed surprised as well, turning to him, "Aren't you going to check your mailbox?"

"Oh, right, the gift exchange."

"Yes," she smiled. "I look forward to it every year! But I suppose it is your first year here, so it's fair you'd forget."

They were are the mailboxes now and John watched as Anna fished the envelope out of her pigeonhole, tearing it open eagerly.

"Disappointing?" He remarked, seeing her face fall a little.

"Not disappointing, really. It's just more fun when you've got a friend, isn't it? But then, it's always a good opportunity to know someone new" she smiled.

"What are you smiling at, you haven't even opened yours?" she inquired

"I'm just noting how you manage to see the bright side to anything, don't you?"

She blushed.

"It's a gift, Anna Smith."

"Oh go on then, see who you've got," she waved her hand at the envelope he was was holding.

"Very well then." She watched a grin spread over his face upon reading the small slip of paper.

"Pleased, are you?"

"Yes," he said, somewhat quickly. "I've got Tom Branson," his tone was conspiratorial as he stuck the slip in his pocket, seeming oddly careful to conceal it for the fact he's just told her who it was. "Should be fun,"

"I'm sure it will, you'll have to tell me what you decide on."

* * *

><p>Waiting on the platform in the tube station, having said goodbye to Anna as they left the office, John removed the small scrap of paper from his pocket and read it once more, as if to confirm his luck. <em>Anna Smith.<em>

He smiled to himself, and tucked it inside his wallet for safekeeping.

* * *

><p>"Has Elsie said anything about being annoyed with me?"<p>

"Well hello to you too," Anna laughed into the receiver.

"Yes, yes. Well has she?"

"No," Anna assured her. _Well, no more than normal_, she thought. Elsie Hughes had always been less under Mary's spell than most people. "Why?"

"She's given me Sarah O'Brien for the gift exchange. Has a more odious woman ever lived?"

Anna laughed. "Bad luck. I'm sure it's nothing personal-"

"Don't say Elsie likes OBrien, I know she doesn't"

"No," Anna allowed, "but she's got to give her to someone, hasn't she? She can't well pair her with Thomas every year. I think a better measure of dislike would be if she'd given Thomas your name!"

"You've a point there. Well, who has the luck of Anna Smith getting their name?"

"I should've known you didn't assign mine," Anna laughed, "because I didn't get John Bates"

"I thought you were insisting there was nothing there?" Mary countered.

"There isn't," said Anna quickly. "But you seem to think there is."

"I don't think things, darling," said Mary sweetly "I know them. Got to run, I'll see you tomorrow."

Anna shook her head, smiling despite herself. She should have known Mary wouldn't give up that easily. Still, she wanted to keep this to herself, if only for just a little longer.

* * *

><p>"Hello Mr. Molesly" Anna greeted him brightly. He was in the break room when she went in to fix her 10:30 coffee, and it seemed as good a time as any to gather some information for her gift planning. She knew the accountant by sight, although they'd never spoken. "I'm not sure that we've ever actually met, I'm Anna Smith," she smiled, holding out her hand.<p>

"I know," he assured her, taking perhaps slightly more time than was strictly necessary to shake her hand. "Call me Joseph, please."

"Alright. How are you liking Grantham so far, Joseph? I know you only started a few months ago."

"Oh, quite well. Some people might think working with numbers is the same anywhere, but it's nice working in a publishing house."

"You're a book lover then?" Anna hoped she had a lead for her gift-giving, and not only because she was dedicated to her Secret Santa assignment. She had a feeling that he might be mis-interpreting her friendliness a little.

"Oh, yes."

"What sorts of things do you like to read?"

"I'm partial to mysteries, but I like all sorts, really. I'm on The Cuckoo's Calling right now, do you know it?"

"Yes, I've read it," she admitted "I'm too much a J.K. Rowling fan not to have"

"What's Harry Potter got to do with it?" He looked supremely puzzled

"Oh, she wrote it, under a speudonym. Robert Galbraith doesn't actually exist." She informed him.

"Oh, well," He seemed a bit flustered. "It's a marvellous book, anyways, don't you agree?"

"Oh yes, I enjoyed it," she said politely, now desperately searching for an out. His hand had landed on her arm seemingly as a punctuation to his last question, and it didn't seem inclined to leave. He wasn't a threat at all, but it was an uncomfortable situation.

"Well, perhaps when I've finished we could get together some time, over coffee, exchange our views?"

_Oh God_ "Well," she looked around desperately and her eyes fell on John Bates, who seemed to have materialized at the table in the corner. "Oh, John!" she excliamed, waving to him "I found that program I was telling you about" She begged him silently with her eyes not to contradict her before turning back to Molesly. "I'm sorry Mr. Molesly, but I've been promising to get this software to him for weeks," she pulled a disc in a paper sleeve from her bag. It didn't matter that it actually held a sample of some of her most recent illustration work rather than a computer program.

"Of course," He appeared to be trying not to look too dejected. "It was good talking to you."

"And you," She smiled politely before escaping hastily to take the seat across from John.

* * *

><p>John walked into the break room, intent on obtaining caffeine, and his eyes fell immediately on Anna, who was by the counter, chatting animatedly to a bloke he was fairly certain worked in Accounting. As he watched, the man put his hand on Anna's arm. <em>Get a grip, Bates<em>, he thought to himself. He had no right to be jealous. No right at all. But there it was.

He was broken out of his reverie by Anna calling his name. He looked up to see her waving at him. "I found that program I was telling you about," he shot her a questioning look, but read in her expression that he shouldn't comment. She turned to the accountant then, appearing to offer an apology before hurrying over to take the seat opposite him. She looked at him sheepishly for a moment before he broke the silence.

"So what's this program then?" He asked, seeing over her shoulder that the other man had left the room.

"It's not actually software," she admitted. "But I needed an out. I started talking to Joseph because I've got him for the gift exchange and I barely know him," she explained, "but I think he misinterpreted my friendliness."

John tried to supress the relief he felt at that sentence, "not your type, is he?" he grinned.

"No," she laughed. "I'm not sure I've a type, really"

"No? No blokes spark your interest?" He knew as he said it that he was probably headed into dangerous territory, but couldn't seem to stop himself.

"No, they do." She admitted, blushing. "Although the bloke I fancy now, I fear I'm not his type," she said a little sadly.

Did that mean what he thought it meant? He desperately hoped so. "I'd have a hard time imagining you not being anyone's type, Anna Smith," he told her softly.

His words seemed to hang in the air as she looked at him and he looked at her. The hope in her eyes filled him with the same, and there were a lot of things he wanted to do in that moment, the foremost being to kiss her. But no. He'd made himself a promise. He wasn't going to ask her into his life until Vera was completely out of it.

He cleared his throat. "So if not software, what is on the disk?" he asked

"Oh," flustered, she looked down. "This. It's a digital portfolio. I'm sending samples of my work to an author who's taking applications for commisioning the illustrations for her next book."

"That's wonderful," he smiled. "So Anna Smith the graphic designer may be soon to become Anna Smith the bona fide illustrator?"

She shook her head. "Probably not. This isn't the first time I've sent out samples, not by a long shot. Most likely it'll come to nothing. And so will the one after that, and the one after that. But some day. . ."

"I'm glad you don't give up," he said, looking at her with an earnestness that took her by surprise.

"Elsie won't let me," she smiled wryly. "She says that the only sure way to know I won't get the commission is not to apply." she shrugged.

"And she's right," he replied. "Don't give up on your dreams, Anna."

"I won't," she promised, getting up from her chair and turning to head back to work. But she paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. "I only hope that some day they'll come true."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **There you have it! I hope this didn't end too abruptly. Like I said, it was originally going to continue on for quite a few more scenes, and cover up until after the Christmas party, but this felt like a natural place to pause it. Anywho, thanks for reading, and I hope to get the continuation up in the next couple days!


	6. Something for You

**A/N:** New chapter! It's a good thing I decided to split it from chapter five, because it's my longest by far as it is.  
>Thank you all again for the lovely reviews on my last chapter :) I'm glad you liked the Matthew and Mary bits, I have a lot of fun writing their banter (or potentially I just like banter in general. . .). Here we have: SybilAnna girl time, some more backstory, the Christmas party, and general adorableness. I hope you approve of John's gift selection :)  
>Also, I want to special shout-out to Tinytimtam and Isis The Dog, who I can't reply to but who leave me super lovely reviews on every chapter. I appreciate you both! (As I appreciate all of you for reading my little tale)<p>

And without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Hello, Anna!" The youngest Crawley pulled open the door, greeting her with the cheer that was her signature. Anna mused, not for the first time, why she didn't spend more time with Sybil, when the younger girl was so much more like her than Mary was.<p>

"Hello Sybil,"

"Mary's not here right now, Anna, she and Matthew went to Manchester for the weekend to stay with Isobel."

"I know," Anna smiled, "it's actually you I was looking for"

"Me?"

"Yes. I was wondering if you might happen to be free this afternoon, which is maybe a long shot, but if you were, if you'd like to go shopping? I thought we could find our dresses for the Christmas party," she said hopefully. Edith and Sybil always went, despite not actually working at Grantham.

"That sounds lovely!" Sybil smiled. "Let me just get my coat!"

"Why didn't you call ahead?" Sybil inquired as they made their way down the pavement. "I don't mind, but it's not very typical Anna Smith."

Anna shot her a conspiratorial look. "Because then the chances of Mary catching wind and wondering why I wanted to go without her would've fallen to zero. I'd just rather be spared her commentary today." Anna shrugged. "You know how she is."

Sybil laughed. "That I do"

* * *

><p>Anna frowned at her reflection. The red-and white dress, with its feathery print and vintage styling was lovely, but there was something missing. It looked good, but not extraordinary. She wanted to make an impression.<p>

"You don't like it?"

"It's not that I don't like it . . . It's just, not exceptional, is it? That's silly."

"No," Sybil shook her head. "We'll just keep looking." Not for the first time that afternoon, Anna was very glad of her good sense in asking Sybil to accompany her rather than Mary, who would've made several cracks about who she was trying to impress.

"Anna, I think I've found it!"

Anna hurried over to where Sybil was beaming, holding up a hanger. The dress was raw silk in a deep jade green. It was a simple, straight style, fairly unremarkable until Sybil turned it around, revealing an open-back cut. Anna but her lip. "Isn't that a bit racy for work, Sybil?"

"For work, yes, but not for a work party. An open back isn't like a low cut," she insisted. "It's classy," she thrust the dress at Anna and all but pushed her into a change room.

Anna slipped the dress on and stepped out uncertainly. It wasn't the sort of style she usually wore, and she felt a little exposed. "Well?" She asked.

Sybil motioned for her to turn. "Oh Anna," she sighed. "He's going to eat his heart out."

"You really think?" It slipped out before she could stop herself. "I mean, I have no idea what you're on about"

Sybil grinned. "Secret's safe with me, Anna. Now, look at yourself!"

She looked up, and saw what Sybil meant. The dress draped perfectly, looking polished and sophisticated, and then she turned, getting a glimpse of the low back. Sybil had been right. It wasn't inappropriate, but it was wonderfully elegant and just a little alluring. "Oh Sybil. It's perfect," she whispered.

"I know. Now," she said, pulling a strapless maroon and gold jumpsuit from the rack beside her. "How much of a heart attack will Papa have if I wear this?" Anna laughed.

* * *

><p>Sybil looked up from her mug. "You really like him, don't you?" The two girls had decided to take a little break for some coffee together before ending their day, Anna's dress in the bag beside her, and Sybil's own unique choice also secured.<p>

Anna looked at her shyly. "I really do, Sybil."

Sybil just smiled. "You two will be so cute."

Anna shook her head. "I don't know if he even likes me in that way, Syb."

"Anna, I'm fairly certain he likes you in every way."

* * *

><p>He'd been looking for almost two hours now, and nothing had stuck out to John yet. He had a great chance here, and he meant to make the most of it. He just wasn't sure how to go about that. He'd looked at books, and chocolate, and soap, even a set of sketching pencils. But the first three were such Office Christmas Gifts. Not personal. And the pencils, well, she probably had all she needed already. About half an hour ago, dissatisfied with every idea he'd had, he'd just begun wandering the sidewalks, looking in windows and hoping to see something. He came up alongside the display windows for the Gallery bookstore. There might be something there. He was making for the door when he saw it in one of the displays. It was perfect. Elegant and beautiful like her, and also personal. Suddenly it was inconsequential that there was supposed to be a price limit on the gifts, and this was significantly more. <em>It said 'about 20£' in the memo<em>, he reasoned. That meant wiggle room, right?

* * *

><p>"I'm trying to work out how this wound up being your job."<p>

Anna laughed, stepping down from the stool she'd been standing on pinning up red and white streamers in the large conference room that the publishing house used for launch parties as well as office celebrations. "I volunteered," she shrugged.

"And you're all on your own?" He asked

"Believe it or not, it's not the most popular job in the world. I don't mind it, though"

"Would you like a hand?" He asked tentatively.

"If you're offering, that would be lovely," he was rewarded with a smile.

"I would've thought this would be more Mary's job than yours," he remarked a few minutes later, holding up some streamers for her to pin.

"It is, technically, but there was something came up she had to take care of." She laughed then, noticing his expression. "No, really, I'll admit she is capable of inventing an excuse to get out of this, but not this time. There was some mess-up with the caterers and she had to go figure out food for tonight,"

"Ah, that's too bad,"

"It doesn't make much of a difference to me, as likely I'd be roped into helping her if she were here. And she's probably happier marching around London making demands than in here putting up crêpe paper," she laughed.

"You are Mary are very close, aren't you?" John observed.

"She's my best friend," said Anna simply.

"She's lucky then," he told her. "You know each other because of Grantham?"

Anna shook her head. "The other way around, really. We grew up together," she explained.

"Does that surprise you?" She asked, noticing his expression.

"Well, only that I know the girls all did the private-school bit, and you don't seem like a private school girl to me,"

"No?" She asked playfully.

"No," he mused. "You're too grounded."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Bates."

"Good," he offered her another smile. "It was one."

"Although," she continued, "I actually did got to a private school for a bit. But was long after I met Mary."

"So how did you know her then?"

"Can't imagine us being neighbours?" Anna teased. "My mum worked for the Crawleys. She was the girls' nanny," Anna explained.

"Really?"

Anna nodded. "I was six, and dad was still in school, so mum couldn't not work, but didn't want to put me in day care. She charmed the Crawleys into letting her have me with her while she worked. Mary was four then, so young enough that my being older still mattered more than me being below her," she laughed.

"Would that really have mattered to her?"

"Not now," Anna shook her head. "But when she was younger she was frightfully stuck up," she laughed at the memory. "But by that point I was firmly established."

"So what's the story behind private school?"

"Well, the girls went to a school nearby until they were twelve, and then they sent Mary off to boarding school. It was terrible, she got up to all sorts of mischief." Mary giggled. "Sneaking off to kiss boys, you know. They'd hoped she would make friends with some of the other girls, but of course she didn't. For some reason, I've always seemed to be the only other girl Mary can stand," she laughed.

"The only girl she can stand, or the only one who can stand her?" He asked with a smile.

"Well, maybe it was a bit of both," she admitted, grinning. "Anyways, the next year they offered to my parents to pay for me to go to the same school. They didn't want me to at first - they didn't like being indebted, I think, and they wanted to be faithful to the public system. But then Cora told them why, so they let me choose. Of course, I was fifteen and jumped at the chance to not live at my parents," she smiled, but then a cloud passed over her face.

"Are you alright, Anna?" He asked softly.

"Mum died when I was in my last year," Anna said quietly. "So you can imagine I sometimes regret that decision."

"Oh Anna. I'm sorry,"

"It's alright," she offered him a smile. "It was a long time ago now. But thank you."

They worked in silence for a few minutes more, only broken by Anna's whistling along to the Christmas carols playing out of the radio in the corner.

"There!" Anna exclaimed, stepping back after pinning up the last streamer.

"We're all done?"

"Well, almost." She looked over at the conference table. "I've still got to go through the presents, but you don't need to stay if you don't want."

"Would you like me to?"

"I'd be glad of the company, but I don't want you to feel you have to. You've given me enough of your time already."

"I don't mind," he assured her. "What do we need to do?"

"Well, she moved over to the table, "we've just got to go through the list and make sure everyone's got something. If anyone doesn't, I'll fetch something from the extra's in Elsie's office," she explained.

"Does that ever really happen?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Not too often though."

As they worked, John reflected on the information he'd received. Anna was a wonder, he thought. She had pain in her past, more, he thought, than she let on. Enough to make anyone bitter. But there she was, just shining her light into the world, bright as can be. Happy to do her bit. He also did some mental math with the information he'd been given. He'd been wondering about her age. He knew he was older, but had wondered by how much. She was two years older than Mary. How old was Mary? Well, he remembered a letter Robert had written him, he was almost certain it was two years ago, talking about how he felt so old with Sybil turning twenty. The Crawley girls were each two years apart, so if Sybil was twenty-two now, that made Mary twenty-six, and Anna twenty-eight. Twenty-eight. Not so bad. That was six years. So he was older, but not, he hoped, prohibitively so.

"So what's the dress code like for this tonight?" He asked after a time. "The memos never said."

"There's not really a dress code. Some people will come in fancy dress, but a lot of people just go to dinner and then come back in work clothes."

"What about you?"

"I'm going back to my flat, and I've a dress to put on. Just something a little more festive," she grinned.

"Is it not odd that the party's not until 8, rather than right after work?"

"Maybe," Anna allowed, "but it's always been that way. I think it's because Cora wants it to feel like a real party, you know, not some mandatory work function. She's big on us being happy here, I suppose. She likes to make it fun. And it is nice, most people make a bit of an evening of it. Every year I have a few people over to mine beforehand, for a bite and maybe a drink." She looked up, "you'd be welcome to come, if you'd like"

He smiled. "I'd like that, if you're sure it's not a bother?" He could hardly believe his luck.

"I'm sure," she smiled. "It's not a big do, just a few of the other designers, Mary and Matthew, Sybil, Daisy as well I think, William, that sort. Bring Tom, if you'd like. Sybil will love me for it," she grinned.

"That sounds lovely,"

"Well, we're all done, she announced, checking off the last name. "I'll see you tonight, come about 6:30?"

"Sounds wonderful,"

She got up to leave. "Anna?" She turned, expectant.

"I don't know your adress."

"Oh!" Quickly, she scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him, then, with a smile swept out of the room.

* * *

><p>Inviting John had seemed an excellent idea in the moment, but on her tube ride home, Anna became more and more nervous. John! In her house! She wanted him there, but the thought terrified her.<p>

As she exited the tube, her phone buzzed, a text that must've come in while she was underground.

**Sybil Crawley**

_Could I come over to your flat early, help you set up? Edith and Dad are having an awful row about her wanting to bring Anthony to the party :S_

_God bless Sybil_, Anna thought, _and God bless Robert not approving of Edith's boyfriend_.

She quickly composed a reply: Yes,_ please do!_

* * *

><p>Sybil opened the door to Anna, hair wet, in her dressing gown, a look of panic that was very foreign to Anna on her face.<p>

"I invited him tonight Sybil. John. Here. What was I thinking? What will I do?"

Sybil stepped inside, shutting the door. "You were thinking you'd be a strong, independent woman and take the first step," Sybil grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And you'll take a deep breath, then we'll pour you a glass of this" she held up the bottle of wine she's brought, "and I'll blow dry your hair, then you'll put on your dress, have another glass of wine, we'll do your hair and your makeup and in an hour and a half when he comes, you'll look fabulous and feel wonderful."

Anna looked gratefully at the younger girl. "You're an angel, Sybil."

"There!" Sybil stepped back, surveying her handiwork. Anna's hair, dried, was swept off her shoulders in a low, classically chic knot at the nape of her neck, and she looked stunning in her dress, with makeup that was very simple save for the sweep of gold eyeliner above her top lashes. "Just a minute," Sybil turned to Anna's closet, surveying the shoe options before picking out a pair of gold kitten heels. "Put these on, and you'll be perfect." Anna did as she was told, and then looked at her reflection, smiling.

Sybil was pleased. The makeover and the ample wine had done its trick, and Anna was looking much more relaxed and confident.

* * *

><p>John was nervous. Dreadfully so. Going to Anna's apartment. Meeting Anna's friends. Which would certainly include Mary Crawley. Did this mean what he thought it did? Or was it just friendly Anna being friendly Anna? He glances at his watch. He had fifteen minutes till Tom Branson was due to arrive so they could go over to Anna's together.<p>

He looked over his reflection again. Dark jeans, a deep forest green button-down. He reconsidered the tie, undoing it. Too formal. He inspected his jacket again. This one, or the tweedy one with the elbow patches? No, that made him look like an aged professor. A knock sounded at the door, and he went to let Tom in.

"Are you alright, John?" Tom looked at him sideways from the passenger seat.

"Fine, why do you ask?" He covered nervously.

"You look preoccupied," Tom mused. Then a look of realization dawned on his face. "You fancy Anna, don't you?"

"What?"

"You do." Tom smiled. "You've got good taste, mate," Tom clapped him on the back. "She's a great girl."

"She is. Probably too great," John looked at his shoes.

"Nah. Have you seen the way she looks at you?"

"She does?"

Tom grinned again. "Definitely."

If Tom hadn't been with him it likely would've taken him fat longer to work up the courage to knock on Anna's door. It swung open to reveal not Anna, but Mary, looking as beautiful as she did intimidating in a wine-coloured sheath. "Hello," she said cooly, looking him and Tom up and down, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. For a man who stood six foot two in sock feet, she did a wonderful job of making him feel small.

"Mary," Matthew materialized behind her, slipping an arm around Mary's waist. "Let's let John and Tom in, shall we?" He pulled her aside gently. "Good evening," he smiled at the two of them.

"John!" Just then, Anna swept around the corner, looking sophisticated and stunning in a short green dress. Much to his surprise, she bounded over and caught him up in a one-armed hug(her other hand occupied by a glass of red wine). "I'm glad you came!"

"Thank you for having me," he said evenly, tempering his excitement by wondering if it was Anna, or the wine, that was happy to see him. She looked a little flushed.

"Sybil!" Anna hissed from behind her mostly-closed bedroom door as Sybil walked past, heading for the loo.

"Anna?"

"I hugged him!" Anna panicked, "what was I thinking!"

"Anna." Sybil planted her palms on Anna's shoulders. "Relax. Judging by the grin plastered on his face, he didn't mind at all."

"Really?"

"Really. Now let's give this," Sybil plucked the glass out of her hand, "a little rest, and get some food and a glass of water in you."

John stood awkwardly by the fireplace in Anna's cozy and perfectly-decorated flat, watching Tom flirting outrageously with Sybil, William trying in vain to catch Daisy's eye, and trying not to attract Mary's attention. Anna had disappeared soon after he'd come in. Where was she? Was she regretting inviting him there? Just then she emerged from the kitchen, the slice of pizza on a paper napkin in her hand seeming very incongruous against the backdrop of her dress. As she walked across the far side of the room, seemingly looking for something, he caught sight of the back of her dress, or lack thereof, for the first time and was once again bowled over. God, she was gorgeous.

In her scanning of the room, her eyes finally lit on him, and she smiled shyly, making her was way over. "Hello,"

"You have a lovely place here, Anna,"

"Thank you," she smiled modestly. "It is cozy, I rather like it."

"The decorations are very nice," he observed, "no tree though?" He second-guessed himself then, wondering if that was rude.

"No, I'm not here for Christmas itself, so it seemed silly," she explained. "I couldn't have nothing though," she smiled.

"Going to York for Christmas?" He asked

"Yes," Anna brightened. "I'm driving down tomorrow. I just love Yorkshire at Christmas, and it will be nice to see Dad again,"

In the brief lull that followed, she seemed to remember something. "Oh! I feel a terrible hostess! Can I get you a drink?"

"No thank you," he shook his head. He knew with his nerves that one drink would lead to two would lead to three would quickly spiral into regret. "I might trouble you for a glass of water, though."

"Absolutely."

Back in the kitchen, Anna caught her breath. Good. Things weren't strange, he didn't seem taken aback by her earlier enthusiasm. But, there did seem to be a change. They were both a little more . . . not hesitant, but serious. The tension that she'd felt brewing the last several times they'd met seemed to be bubbling just under the surface now. The prospect excited and terrified her.

She arrived back in the room, handing John the water.

"Thank you,"

She only smiled.

"So what are your Christmas plans? If you celebrate, of course?" She added quickly.

His eyes crinkled. Goodness she was sweet. "I do. It's just me and my Mum these days, she lives just outside London, so I'll go up there for a few days. It's quiet, but nice."

"Sounds lovely."

"It is. We used to always try to do something a bit special, ever since its been just the two of us. Take a holiday to Scotland for a few days, or the like. But she broke her hip last winter, so travel's off the books this year,"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, she's fighting fit otherwise," he grinned. "It's still a nice break, and good to spend time with her. How about you? Is it just you and your father?"

"No. I'll go down to York and spend a few days just with him, but Christmas Eve we'll go to his sister's house, to have all the Smith clan together," she smiled. "It's a big farmhouse just outside Ripon, so it's lovely. Ever since I was very small we've always all gathered there for Christmas, my aunts and uncles and cousins."

"You're close to your extended family, then?"

"I am," she agreed. "It's nice."

She caught a glimpse of his watch then. "Oh, what time is it?" She grasped his wrist to look at it more closely, and he felt something of a shock run through him. He must have flinched.

"Oh! I'm sorry,"

"No, you just surprised me, is all," he covered. "It's quarter to eight."

"Oh my! We'd all best get going!"

"Everybody!" She turned to address the room at large, "time to head out! Elsie waits for nobody!" She laughed.

John hung back a little at the door as Anna ushered everyone out, taking his time. She turned to find him holding out her coat for her. "Oh, thank you! We'd best hurry," she said somewhat reluctantly, "if we're to catch the tube with the others."

"I've got my car here, actually. I don't suppose you'd like a lift? I seem to have lost my passenger," he indicated down the hall, where Tom had disappeared with Sybil.

"That would be lovely."

They walked to his car in silence, Anna fighting down the absurd urge to reach out and touch him. To take his hand, or slip her arm through his. Hey, she'd probably even settle for reaching up to brush some imaginary dust off of his shoulder. She was glad that she'd taken Sybil's advice and laid off the wine since John had arrived. She was fairly certain that any residual intoxication she felt now was not caused by alcohol.

He reached the car a beat before she did, holding open the passenger door for her. Suddenly she felt shy, more shy than she ever had in the past around him. What had happened to the girl who had been so quick to a witty retort for everything he said?

The radio came on as soon as he started the car, a newscaster's voice filling the small space. Quickly, John reached over and twisted the dial, finding a station playing soft classical music. "Sorry,"

"Don't be," she smiled, touched that he would remember something as small and insignificant as her radio preferences, let alone be so quick to try to accomodate them. "thank you,"

"Have I told you yet that you look breathtaking tonight?" he asked after a moment, turning to her.

Anna was glad of the dim light in the car for hiding the colour she turned at that. "No, you haven't. Thank you," She managed.

"You do," he repeated.

"It's quite a dress, isn't it? Sybil helped me pick it out."

"It's not just the dress," he said softly.

John reluctantly tore his eyes away from Anna to fix them back on the road, just in time to not miss the drive into the office car park. He hadn't realized they'd been driving for that long. Anna as well seemed startled when he parked the car, looking around her a little like she was waking from a dream. He fumbled with his seatbelt, hurrying to get out and around to open her door. The smile that rewarded him, although hesitant, was breathtaking.

Anna felt under some sort of spell. It had begun when John had ushered her into his car, and it continued and they made their way into the building and rode the elevator up to the third floor, both stealing sidelong glances at the other, although neither spoke.

The enchantment was rudely broken when the lift doors opened and she was all but accosted by her best friend. "Anna! Where have you been?!" The look Mary gave her told Anna that there was no chance she hadn't noticed who was accompanying her. Without giving her a moment to protest, Mary grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

"Why weren't the two of you on the tube with us?" Mary gave her a very significant look.

Anna shrugged, attempting to look the picture of innocence. "John had his car with him. He was the last leaving, and offered me a lift."

"I see."

"Mary!" Matthew appeared beside them, and Anna had never been gladder to see him. "You must come try these ginger cookies, darling, you'll love them," he told her, gently taking her by the arm. As he lead her away, he glanced behind him at Anna, who took the opportunity to mouth "THANK YOU". He winked at her, before whisking Mary off into the crowd.

"Really darling," she scolded him, "I was having an important conversation,"

"I know," he looked at her with amused disapproval.

"Oh you're no fun, Matthew" she huffed.

"I'm lots of fun, darling," he grinned at her, "I just think you need to find sources of amusement other than Anna's love life."

"So you think she has one?" Mary pounced.

"Of course she does, Mary. The question isn't whether there's something there, it's whether she's willing to share it. You need to stop ganging up on her, dearest."

"How can I gang up on her when I'm one person?" Mary countered.

"I don't know, darling," he laughed, "but you can."

No sooner had Matthew pulled Mary away than Anna's attentions were claimed by the middle Crawley sister. "I don't see why Papa has to be so cruel!" She whined. "Mary and Sybil both have their men here, why must Anthony be any different?"

"Well," Anna pointed out as gently as possible, "Matthew and Tom do both work at Grantham. If it's any consolation, I don't think your father's mad about Tom either, he just can't do much about it. I'm sorry, Edith."

"He doesn't approve because he says Anthony's too old for me, but if we're happy that shouldn't matter, should it?" Edith continued to complain. Of all the Crawley sisters, Anna found Edith the hardest to love, sometimes. She always seemed to have a chip on her shoulder about something. Not that being Mary's younger, and less classically attractive sister could be that easy, but there was also something to be said for counting your blessings, Anna mused.

She hadn't really realized Edith had been continuing to talk until she heard something that snapped her out of her thoughts. "What does age matter? After all, John's quite a bit older than you, isn't he?"

"John?" Anna asked nervously, glancing around to see where the man in question was, and breathing a sigh of relief when she saw him by the opposite wall, talking to William Mason. His eyes met hers, and she dropped her gaze quickly.

"Yes, John Bates."

"John isn't. . . we're friends."

"You're friends?" Edith laughed, giving her an incredulous look.

"Yes," Anna came as close to snapping as she ever did. "If you'll excuse me, Edith, I think I should go see how Elsie's getting on, ask if she needs a hand.

With that, she made her escape, weaving through the crowd until she found Elsie Hughes standing in the corner by the tree, surveying the scene. "It's turned out well, don't you think?" She asked, coming to stand beside her friend and mentor.

"It has," Elsie agreed, smiling at the younger woman, "no small thanks to you, Anna,"

"I was happy to," Anna smiled back, "besides, I didn't have to do it all on my own."

"Oh? I thought Mary didn't get back much before five."

"She didn't," Anna tried and failed to look like she hadn't anything to hide, "John Bates was walking by and looked in to give me a hand."

Elsie looked at her thoughtfully. "That was kind of him," she said finally.

"It was," she agreed.

"Well, I'd best go announce the exchange now, my dear," she sighed, patting Anna fondly on the arm before walking through the crowd to the microphone by the sound table.

As Anna made her way bck through the crowd, away from the tree, she was thankful for Elsie. Why couldn't more people be like her, allowing her to live her life at her own pace?

"Anna!" She was stopped by Cora Crawley. "Elsie's told me this was your handiwork, it looks wonderful,"

"Thank you, Cora. I was glad to help. Are you and Robert looking forward to the holiday?"

"Oh, yes. We're pleased we've been able to wrangle everyone into being at home for Christmas! Are you certain you and your father can't make it, dear?"

Anna smiled. It always touched her how the Crawleys wanted to welcome her and her dad into their family celebrations. "We're sure, I'm afraid. We couldn't miss the big Smith Christmas," Anna explained, "but he did ever so much appreciate your offering, as do I,"

"Of course, Anna. You're always welcome at our home."

"Thank you, Cora."

Anna smiled as the older woman left. The Crawleys could be their own unique brands of overwhelming, but she knew she was lucky to have them in her life.

Her eyes began, almost of their own accord, to scan the room, and, finding John, she'd almost made up her mind to go say hello when she was interrupted once again.

"Anna!" She turned to find Joseph Molesly, eagerly holding the novel she'd chosen as his gift. "Thank you very much for the book! It looks most interesting,"

"I'm glad," she smiled weakly at him. "It sounded like it should be good, from the reviews I read."

"Perhaps when I've finished with it, I could lend it to you?" he suggested.

"Perhaps. . " never had Anna been gladder to see Mary, as she breezed through the crowd towards her.

"Anna, I've got your gift, come open it," She grabbed Anna's hand, pulling her away from Molesly.

"Thank you again, Happy Christmas!"

"You're welcome," she said hastily over her shoulder, before turning back to Mary.

"You're welcome."

"Thank you," Anna laughed. "So, my gift then!"

"Yes, open it!" Mary thrust the box into Anna's hands with perhaps more enthusiasm than would be expected for someone else's gift. A thought occurred to Anna. "Mary. . ?"

"Just open it, Anna."

With trembling hands, Anna undid the silver ribbon on the flat, oddly light package, and then carefully removed the scarlet paper. Anna lifted the lid of the unassuming black box within, and carefully folded back the white tissue paper. She saw bright, multicoloured cloth. The pattern was familiar, although she couldn't put her finger on why. When she lifted it out, however, unfurling the silk scarf that was her gift, she didn't even need to read the card that fluttered to the ground to know who it was from. It was printed with the brilliantly coloured impressionist sunset painting that she'd pointed out to John as her favourite at the gallery that weekend. She took the card from Mary, who had retreived it from the ground, and reverently, turned it over. In a simple but elegant hand, in black ink on a square of cream-coloured paper was written simply _To Anna, Happy Christmas. With warmest regards, John Bates_.

Mary looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"You know," Anna grinned wryly, "I'm not even mad,"

With that, Anna turned and made her way quickly through the crowd to John.

* * *

><p>John had been incredibly nervous at the prospect of Anna receiving her present, but when he saw the look on her face as she walked towards him holding it, all fears were allayed. "Do you like your gift?" he smiled at her.<p>

"John, it's beautiful. Thank you. I can't remember when I received a more thoughtful gift,"

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, he was that glad. "You're welcome, Anna. I'm glad you like it."

"I love it, John. But I'm afraid you must've spent far too much,"

"It was too perfect to pass up," he shrugged. "I'm just glad you like it."

"I do," she assured him. They looked at each other for a moment, before Anna spoke again. "So what did you get?"

He grinned, and held up a package of twelve plastic ballpoint pens. "Thomas,"

"No! That's terrible!"

He laughed, "I don't mind Anna, really. It is amusing though. I'm just glad that you like yours so much."

* * *

><p>John stood by the refreshments table, nursing a glass of (non-augmented) eggnog. Anna had been pulled away to dance with a group of her friends from Creative, which had probably been for the best, because he wasn't sure if he'd have been able to hold himself back from confessing his feelings to her, what with the look in her eyes, and that breathtaking dress, and all the sparkle around them. But he'd made himself a promise. That had been almost an hour ago, and he looked around for her now. He did want at least to wish her Happy Christmas before she left, and the party was winding down now. He was saved from his search, however, when she appeared beside him, grinning and carrying a green gift bag.<p>

"I've something for you," she handed it to him

"Anna," he stumbled, taking it from her, "you didn't have to-"

"I felt badly that you shouldn't have anything, when what you gave me was so lovely. So I picked out something from the extras in Elsie's office," she explained. "I would've liked to get something more thoughtful, but there wasn't time,"

"Anna, you didn't have to do this. . . " John was touched, as he reached inside the bag, pulling aside tissue paper.

"I wanted to," she assured him as he pulled out a bag of quality coffee and a beautiful handmade mug.

"Thank you, Anna."

"You're welcome,"

He hesitated then. Dare he? The song changed to something slower, an old-fashioned number. "Would you care to dance, Anna?"

"I'd like that," She said seriously, taking his offered hand. And then she grinned at him teasingly, "after all, I know how you love Sinatra.

He settled his hands lightly at her waist, registering with a shock that, because of her dress, they were resting partially on bare skin. It was almost more than he could bear, especially as he looked down to meet her eyes. _Drowning in blue_, the line came back to him. It fit the situation exactly. She was an ocean, and one he very much wanted to get lost in. Unfathomable. Majestic. Magical. Impossibly beautiful.

"Well Mr. Bates," she broke the silence "How are you enjoying your first Grantham Christmas?"

"Very much," he managed, "very much indeed."

The song ended, and Anna glanced reluctantly at his watch. "I'd best go," she sighed. "I need to be on the road early tomorrow," Still, she walked off the floor with him, and they found their way to a slightly sheltered stretch of wall.

She looked up at him. "Thank you again for the scarf, it's lovely."

"And you," he replied. He wasn't sure if he was telling her thank you for her gift, or if he was agreeing that she, too, was lovely. Either worked, although lovely wasn't quite a big enough word.

She looked up then, and he followed her gaze. "mistletoe," she all but whispered.

Then, before he could react, almost before he could register, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and rising up her toes, pressed her lips to his. It lasted only a moment, a heartbeat, but also seemed to go on forever. Too soon, she fell back onto her feet. She looked into his eyes, her hand still on his shoulder. "Happy Christmas, John." And with that she turned and slipped off into the crowd.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ** First kiss first kiss!  
>(As always, reviews make me a happy girl)<p> 


	7. What are you Doing New Year's Eve?

**A/N: Hello friends! I'm glad you all enjoyed the last chapter :) Thanks once again for all your lovely reviews. I haven't managed to reply to them all yet (it's been a hectic week), but I will, and know that I appreciate them all very much! Without further ado, here's chapter seven! I hope you enjoy! The title of this chapter is inspired by a song of the same name :)**

* * *

><p>"Johnny, either get your head out of the clouds, or at least tell me why it's there!" Elizabeth Bates scolded, as she caught John once again sitting staring into space, a half-smile on his face.<p>

He looked at his mother. There was a fair-sized part of him that did want to talk with her about this. He knew she'd be pleased, and maybe she could help untangle his thoughts.

"Anna Smith," he almost sighed the name.

* * *

><p>As she put the miles between London and Yorkshire behind her, Anna's thoughts raced faster than her little red car. What had she been thinking? What had <em>he<em> been thinking? Realizing she could no longer stand to be alone in her head, she pulled off to the shoulder and put in her headphones, finding Sybil's number and dialling.

"Hi Anna!" Sybil's trademark cheerlfullness greeted her.

"I kissed him!" She blurted

"Kissed John? When?!"

"Last night!"

"I assumed that," Sybil's tone was sympathetic and calm, suppressing her amusement as she tried to bring down Anna's hysteria a little. "But I meant specifically when. Deep breaths, Anna. Start from the beginning."

"Which beginning?"

Sybil laughed. "How about the beginning of the interaction in which you kissed him?" She suggested.

"Well, I went to give him his present,"

"Wait, I thought he had you, not the other way round?"

"He did. But Thomas had him and all he got was ballpoint pens, because it's Thomas," Sybil laughed. "So I picked out one of the extras from Elsie's office,"

"Oh that's sweet," Sybil interrupted.

"And gave it to him," Anna plowed on, seemingly needing to just get it all out now she'd begun. "And he thanked me for it, and then we just kind of looked at one another, and then he asked me to dance,"

The noise Sybil made could best be described as a squeal.

"So of course I did. And it just felt so, romantic . . ." _And electric_, thought Anna, but that felt too silly to say. "And then the song was over and I said I had to go home, and we walked to the wall, and there was mistletoe and I kissed him" Anna said in a rush before being interrupted by a clattering sound. "Sybil? Sybil?"

"Sorry Anna," Sybil came through, laughing. "I got excited and dropped my mobile. Go on,"

"Well, that was it, really."

"Did he kiss you back?"

"I . . . Don't know? It wasn't very long," Anna admitted.

Well, what did he say?"

"Nothing"

"Nothing?"

"Well, I kind of . . . Left."

"You kissed him and then left?" She tried not to sound judgemental.

"Well, I wished him Happy Christmas first," Anna said, a little defensively. "But then I left. Oh god Sybil, why did I leave? What must he be thinking?"

Sybil bit back a laugh. "I'd wager he's as confused as you, at least. I think you should call him."

"I don't have his number."

"You don't?"

"No. We've never thought to exchange them, I suppose."

"His email?" Sybil suggested.

"What would I say?"

"You're right . . . I'm not sure Anna. Look, I think I've got to go. You'll be alright? I'll check in later."

"I'll be fine. Thank you, Sybil. Bye,"

Sybil hung up, and quickly navigated back to her contacts. She needed to make a call, and hoped Anna would forgive her.

* * *

><p>"Anna Smith?" His mother made the name into a question. "Can I take that to mean that you've finally ended things with Vera for good?"<p>

"I already told you I had, mother," he pointed out.

"After the third time you said that I stopped believing you, dear." She shook her head. Mrs. Bates had, with good reason, never liked Vera. "But if there's another girl, I might think it'll take this time. I'd be glad, John."

"So would I!" He laughed, then became serious. "Please believe me mum. I'm making a fresh start. I intend to leave all that behind and not look back."

"A fresh start with this Anna?"

He rubbed a hand over his head. "A fresh start in general. But I would like for it to include Anna, yes. I'd like that very much."

"So tell me about her."

"She works at Grantham. She's a designer. I don't know, mum," he sighed. "She's incredible. An amazing artist. So kind. She's go this- joy about her."

Elizabeth Bates smiled. She tried to remember the last time her son had been starry-eyed over a girl. He'd been about seventeen, she thought. "Are you seeing each other, Johnny?"

"Not really." He sighed. "Not yet. We're friends, for now. The last time I saw her, she kissed me," he revealed.

"And what did you do? What did you say?"

"Nothing?" John admitted. "She left right after. There was mistletoe."

His mother stood up. "Son, it's plain you like this girl. You might even end up loving her. Don't be a fool and let it finish before its started. The proverbial ball is in your court, boy."

He couldn't help but laugh at his mother using a sports metaphor.

"Now, why don't you make yourself useful and get a fire going while your old mum finishes getting this dinner together?"

As he walked out to the woodpile his mother kept in her little garden, John's mind wandered back to the Saturday afternoon previous, the day after the office party.

He'd been sitting at his kitchen table, wrapping the gifts for his mother, when a knock had sounded on the door of his flat. His heart had immediately kicked up a notch, before he reminded himself that she didn't even know his address. Then he remembered that he knew hers. Should he go and see her? But no. She'd most certainly left for York already. He answered the door to find a grinning Tom Branson. "Hello,"

"Hello, Tom. What's brought you here?"

"Just wanted to give you your Christmas gift, mate,"

"Oh. I'm afraid I don't have anything for you, Tom, I did think-"

Tom laughed. "No worries, old boy. I didn't spend a cent. I think you'll like it all the same though," he grinned mischievously, and, fetching the "present", really just a scrap of notepaper, from his pocket, handed it to his friend. John looked down. There, in Tom's surprisingly tidy writing was a name and a phone number.

"Does she know?"

Tom shook his head. "It was Sybil's idea. But between me and you, mate, I don't think she'll mind."

John opened his mouth to protest, but Tom stopped him. "Look, you don't have to use it, that's up to you. But the option's there."

Thank you," John tucked the precious slip of paper into a pocket. "Will you come in for a cup of tea?

"Can't, my train for Dublin leaves in an hour. Happy Christmas, John!"

The paper had stayed there, in his pocket, ever since. He still hadn't used it. He'd almost done, several times, but stopped himself. What if she didn't want to hear from him? What if she was upset that he had her number? But with his mothers words fresh in his ears, he pulled out his mobile and opened a new message, inputting Anna's number.

* * *

><p>Anna was sprawled on the carpet by the fire in the farmhouse's cavernous living room, surrounded by seven cousins, all of them in a post-Christmas-dinner stupor. She was only half-listening to a <em>story<em> that Leah, the youngest, was telling when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Never able to contain her curiousity for long, she pulled it out.

The text was from an unfamiliar number, and said simply _Happy Christmas, Anna_. If she hadn't already been essentially immobile, she would have frozen. _He doesn't have your numbe_r, she reasoned. But the precise phrasing was very familiar. A speech bubble with the pulsing ellipsis popped up in the corner of her screen, indicating that whoever it was was writing something more. She waited.

_This is John Bates, by the way. I was given your number by Sybil, via Tom Branson. I hope you don't mind. _

She couldn't stop the grin from spreading over her face. He was texting her! That had to mean something, yes? After Friday? She wrote back quickly, never one much for playing games.

_I don't mind. Happy Christmas to you as well! Have you had a good holiday so far?_

The response was not long to wait for

_I'm glad. Yes, I have had a nice holiday. Quiet, but good. Yourself?_

_Quite lovely, but quiet it definitely hasn't been! I might have envied you that this morning, I'm sharing a room with four of my cousins, and was woken at seven!_

_And before you ask, the youngest is 24. We seem to all regress to being about twelve when we're together_

_Well, I suppose there's something to be said about being young at heart._

_That there is. And something to be said for family. I wouldn't trade them for the world, I'm lucky I know._

_I'm glad your holiday has been good. Father Christmas bring you anything nice?_

Anna grinned. _Nothing to top a certain lovely scarf. All the other gifts are jealous because they know I like it best. How about you?_

_I don't know if I could be happier to receive anything than your parting gift on Friday,_ he typed. He almost sent it too, but it would turn out he wasn't quite that brave.

_My mother gave me some books that seem quite interesting. And socks. Always socks._ He sent instead.

_Well, one can never have too many socks. _He could almost see her impish grin in the words.

_No, I suppose one can't._

_My cousins are demanding that we play charades, so I must go. It was lovely talking to you_.

_You as well. I'm glad I've got your number._

_Me too. Goodbye for now._

* * *

><p>"So Dean still hasn't popped the question yet, Laur?" Leah asked from the air mattress on the floor. Anna and her four female cousins were all squeezed into the attic bedroom of the farmhouse. Leah and Kenzie, being the youngest had been relegated to the floor, while Anna shared a double with Kenzie's sister Lizzie. Laurel, the eldest had claimed the one twin bed for herself. As it always seemed to on these nights when the five girls were sharing the small space, catching up after sometimes months apart, the conversation had turned to men friends; currently, Laurel's long-time boyfriend.<p>

"No!" Kenzie answered for her sister. "I'm betting he'll do it on New Years though"

"No," Lizzie disagreed, sitting up, "my money's on Valentine's. That's more Dean."

"You know," Laurel drawled, "I'd love it if we could not place bets on my hypothetical future engagement. Can we please talk about something else?"

"Like what?" Goaded Leah, thoroughly enjoying herself.

"How about Anna's new boyfriend?" Her cousin nudged her, grinning.

"What? I haven't got a boyfriend."

"That blush says different!" Laurel teased

"What else are you going on?"

"Earlier," Lizzie started, "you were texting someone with the biggest grin on your face, and we practically had to pull the phone out of your hand. C'mon Anna-bell, fess up!"

Anna sighed good-naturedly. She knew they wouldn't give up, and she almost did want to tell them anyways. This was what they'd done, ever since they were old enough to care about boys. Anna couldn't remember the number of crushes she'd confessed in this room. That her cousins never knew any of them had made it easier to talk, as it did now. "His name's John," she smiled self-consciously. "He's not my boyfriend, though."

"But you fancy him?" Anna nodded.

"And how does he feel?"

"I think he likes me. . . I hope he does."

"Well, did he text you or you him?" Leah was eager to analyze.

"He texted me. I didn't have his number, he was given mine by Sybil."

"Oooh,"

"What other evidence?" Kenzie asked excitedly.

"Evidence?" Laurel laughed, "he's not on trial!"

"Oh you know what I mean!"

"Well, that he's texting me after . . ."

"After what?!"

"At the office Christmas party," Anna began

"You work together?"

"At the same publishing house," Anna corrected. "Not together, really. He's an editor. But that's how we met yes,"

"Okay, get back to what happened!"

"Well," Anna was well on her way to scarlet now, "he asked me to dance, so of course I did . . . And then we were saying goodnight, and there was mistletoe . . ."

"He kissed you?!"

"I kissed him," Anna admitted.

"You go girl!" Lizzie held her hand up for a hi-five.

"And then?" Pressed Leah.

Anna shrugged. "I wished him a happy Christmas, and left."

"But what did he say?"

". . . I didn't really give him a chance to, I suppose"

"And that was the last you'd spoken?"

"Until today," Anna confirmed.

"What did he say?"

Anna pulled out her mobile. "Happy Christmas, Anna," she read. "Now, is that significant? After I kissed him," she turned a deeper shade of scarlet, "I said, 'happy Christmas, John,'"

"Well, it is a common phrase," laughed Laurel.

Leah reached up to playfully smack her elder sister. "Definitely significant, Anna," she grinned.

* * *

><p>John was absorbed in a book, feet propped up in front of the fire at his mums place, when he heard a text come in. Usually, he wasn't one to jump to grab his mobile at every alert, but what if it was her? He picked up the phone, and wasn't disappointed.<p>

This time, the text was accompanied by a picture. Anna, in jeans and a white sweater, with a poinsettia-covered apron over all of it, was standing in a kitchen, her hands on her hips and a playful scowl on her face. The counter and sink behind her were absolutely piled with dirty dishes. The accompanying text read 'the only thing I dislike about large family gatherings'

He couldn't help the wide smile that spread across his face. Both at the simple fact that she was texting him, and at how lovely she was.

* * *

><p>By mid afternoon on boxing day, Anna was deeply regretting telling her cousins about John. They'd realized after lucnh that she'd texted him and had begun teasing her mercilessly. Before long, the boys had caught on. They were now all gathered once more in the living room (thankfully once again without parents), most of the others engaged in a full-on Interrogate Anna session.<p>

The only person who wasn't participating was Gavin, sitting in the corner and shooting her sympathetic looks from time to time. Suddenly, he stood, stretching and running a hand through his hair. "I fancy a ride," he announced. "I've been sitting around far too long. Anyone care to join me?"  
>"I'd love to!" Anna agreed eagerly, getting up herself. "I think I've still got boots and a hard hat here somewhere?" she asked her cousin, whose home the farmhouse was.<p>

"I think so. Let's have a look, and I'm sure we can sort something out." He smiled at her, and led the way out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, the two were fully kitted out and walking in step together over the snow-dusted yard towards the barn.  
>"Gavin?" Anna began, and he looked at her. "Thank you."<p>

He smiled. "You're welcome. You looked like you could use an out, and you and I are the only ones who really like to ride anymore."

Anna looked gratefully at him. Of all her cousins, she'd always been closest with Gavin. While Lizzie, Kenzie, and Laurel had an older brother, for a total of four, and Leah was one-half of a mischievous set of twins, Gavin alone was an only child as well. He was also closest in age to Anna, being just a year her junior. Moreover, for a time when she was younger, her family had lived with Gavin and his parents. When Anna's mother got the job with the Crawleys, it had made sense, as the manor house where the Crawleys lived then was much closer to the farm than it was to their flat in York. They'd lived there from when Anna was six until she was thirteen, which had fostered in her a close friendship with her younger cousin.

They spent most of their ride in a comfortable silence, which was one of the things she liked so much about Gavin. An extrovert through and through, Anna loved conversation, but there was also something to be said for just _being_ with another person, someone you know well enough not to need to talk. She was almost surprised when he broke the silence. "Are you happy?"

"Pardon?"

"With John, I mean. I don't want to pry, I'm just, checking up, I suppose. Making sure everything's good in Anna-land." He gave her a crooked smile.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "It is, Gav. I think it really is. I'm still figuring things out, but I'm happy."

"I'm glad. You deserve the best, cuz."

* * *

><p>As always when she was leaving Yorkshire after the holidays, Anna was torn between reluctance to leave her family behind, and glad of a little peace. This time, it was also tinged at relief to be free of the barrage of questions and significant looks, but also with excitement. Another person hadn't made her feel this way - this mixture of anticipation and butterflies and bubbly elation - in a long time. It was a little scary, but mostly exhilarating.<p>

Somewhere between the second and third hours of her journey, her mobile rang.

"Hello?"

"Anna, Darling. How was your Christmas?"

"Lovely and chaotic as usual. And yours?"

"Oh, it was quite nice. No major crises," Mary laughed. "Are you still coming for dinner tonight?"

"Of course, Mary. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Half six?" After Mrs. Smith had stopped working for them, the Crawleys and Smiths had still been very close, and begun celebrating a joint Christmas every year a few days after the actual holiday. Now that they were in London and Anna's mum was gone, the two families rarely made it together, but Robert and Cora still insisted on throwing an elaborate dinner(Or Crawley Christmas, as she called it) for Anna every year as soon as she got back from York.

"So Anna," Mary changed subjects, clearly getting to what she'd really called about. "What are your New Years plans?"

"I don't really have any," Anna admitted. Exhausted after her big family gathering, she often preferred a quiet New Years, if Mary wasn't throwing some big bash. "I was thinking I might just go over to Elsie's and watch the countdown on telly. She'll likely be alone otherwise. Why?" With Mary, there was always a 'why?'

"Well, Tom Branson is throwing a party, and of course Sybil insists on going, so I'm going to keep an eye on her, but it will be frightfully boring on my own. You know Isobel's claimed Matthew for New Year's as we had him for Christmas." she sighed. "Come, will you?"

Anna didn't have to consider for long. She did enjoy New Year's, and Sybil might need some sympathetic backup. Besides, who knew who else Tom might invite. . . "Alright," she replied, "count me in."

* * *

><p>"Alright, presents!" Announced Robert as they all sat in the drawing room, digesting a magnificent dinner. He walked to the sumptuous tree in the corner to find a large, gold-wrapped package, and his daughters followed suit while Anna rummaged in the tote bag she'd brought for her own gifts. She always felt a little awkward being lavished with gifts from the family whose means much outstripped her own, but it was also sweet, and she knew they enjoyed it.<p>

"Me first!" Announced Mary, dropping a bag in Anna's lap. Anna opened it to reveal a pair of dark indigo high-waisted skinny jeans(trust Mary to know her exact size) and a flowy white sleeveless top. She raised her eyebrow at Mary, grinning. "My outfit for New Year's?"

"Naturally," Mary smiled.

Anna followed suit with her gift to Mary, a pair of silver and freshwater pearl earrings she'd commissioned from an art-school friend. After she'd exchanged gifts with Edith, Sybil sprang up, grinning, and handed Anna an envelope, which she opened to find a gift certificate for a posh manicure place in the city.

"I thought we could go, tomorrow, get our nails done for the party?" Sybil suggested.

Anna smiled. "That sounds lovely. And here's yours," Anna handed Sybil the box of chocolates from a little shop in Thirsk that she knew was the younger girl's favourite. Sybil squealed, hugging her. "Thank you Anna!"

"Now it's our turn," Cora smiled, taking the box from her husband and handing it to Anna. She opened it to reveal a state-of-the-art graphics tablet. The publishing house had just gotten a few for the creative department, and she'd told Robert what a good investment they'd been. Having one herself would be a great help in working on her own projects. "Cora, Robert, you shouldn't have. Thank you!"

"It's our pleasure dear,"

Anna then got up to give Cora and Robert their present, which they immediately tried to protest. "Now Anna, you know you don't have to get us anything!"

"Don't worry," Anna assured them with a grin, "I followed the rules, I promise." Several years ago, the Crawleys had told Anna she shouldn't feel she needed to get them anything, a suggestion that she had proceeded to ignore the following year. The next Christmas, they'd pronounced that she wasn't allowed to spend money on them. To an artist, however, that wasn't much of a deterant. This year, she'd taken advantage of her trip up north to do a large charcoal drawing of the manor house where they'd lived for years, and where the girls had been raised.

"Oh my dear," Cora gushed. "This is lovely, thank you"

* * *

><p>"How about this one?" Sybil held up a bottle of deep red polish.<p>

"I don't know. . . perhaps something a little softer?"

"I know! This one!" triumphantly, she plucked a bottle of a soft gold from the vast selection.

"It is nice. . but perhaps a bit much?"

"If you'd like," the manicurist came up behind the two girls "I could do your nails white, perhaps, with French tips in the gold?"

"Oh, get that, Anna!"

Anna smiled. "Sounds lovely, thank you."

After their nails were done, Sybil insisted on pedicures as well. "Isn't this a bit much?" Anna asked, her feet immersed in warm water. "When we'll be wearing shoes?"

"Nope," Sybil pronounced. "It's all about the foot massage!"

Anna laughed. "I won't disagree there. Thank you for this, Sybil."

"You're welcome. I thought you could use some pampering. Besides, I wanted a chance to talk to you on our own, check in. How was your holiday?"

"You mean did John utilize the phone number you gave him?"

Sybil looked a little abashed. "Do you mind?"

Anna shook her head. "No. I appreciate it, in fact."

"So you talked?"

"We texted, a bit. Not about . . things, but that he wanted to talk at all is a good sign, isn't it?

"definitely."

They lapsed into silence for a moment.

"Sybil?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know if he's coming? To Tom's party?"

"No. But Tom does know that you are. So we'll just have to see, I suppose?"

"That we will."

* * *

><p>John's phone rang, startling him. Immediately in response he felt the feeling of nerves-and-excitement that was beginning to get familiar, although he didn't know why he would think it would be her. They'd texted, but had never mentioned actually talking. He checked the caller ID. It was Tom.<p>

"Hello, Tom."

"John, mate! What are you doing tonight?"

"Watching telly and going to bed?"

"I'm having a party. Come, won't you?"

John sighed. He liked Tom, he really did, but house parties weren't exactly his favourite thing, especially not the kind Tom was likely to throw. "I don't know, Tom. I don't think it would really be my thing, honestly. You don't need a wingman any more, surely? I thought you and Sybil were pretty much sorted?"

"We are," Tom confirmed, pleased. "That's not why I want you to come."

"Why then?"

"Because Sybil's not coming alone." John could practically hear the grin in his friend's voice.

"Anna?"

"The one and only, mate. What do you say?"

"What time should I be there?"

"That's the spirit! Come about half past eight?"

"I'll see you then."

John hung up the phone, and proceeded to panic. Talking to her was one thing, but seeing her, especially in this context, he couldn't not confront what had happened last time. Not that he didn't want to, really. He wanted nothing more than to tell Anna that she was the most magnificent person he'd ever met, and could he take her out to dinner. But the lurking Vera was still niggling him. Did it matter?_ Yes_, he thought. It did. Anna didn't deserve to be dragged into his life with an ex still hanging about. His thoughts were getting him nowhere, so he decided, probably unwisely, to think about it when it happened, and instead confronted the question of what to wear. What to wear? He didn't have dress clothes. Work clothes, but not dress clothes. How dressy was this anyways? He grabbed his mobile, dialing Tom's number again. "Tom, what on earth do I wear?"

Tom didn't even try not to laugh. "I dunno, dress-casual I suppose?"

"So . . "

Tom laughed again. "How about I just pop 'round to yours, say in an hour?"

"Would you?"

"See you soon, mate."

* * *

><p>Edith, looking flushed and excited in a pale-blue dress, opened the door when Anna arrived at the Crawley residence early on New Years' eve. "Hello, Anna! Sybil and Mary are upstairs."<p>

"Thanks, Edith. You look nice,"

"Thank you," she smiled, a good look for Edith. "Anthony's taking me to dinner."

"Have a good time!"

When Anna got to the top floor, she followed the sound of a stereo to Sybil's room. Mary, immaculate as always, although presumably not in her evening clothes yet, was looking on as Sybil, still in her dressing-gown, a towel on her head, surveyed her closet.

"Oh, Anna, help me choose!" She held up two dresses.

Anna thought for a moment, then selected one, pointing.

"That's the same as Mary said! Silver it is, then."

After Sybil changed, they re-located to the cavernous powder room, Anna blow-drying Sybil's hair as Mary narrated aloud her outfit selection process. She finally settled on something, disappearing and coming back in a sleeveless red number just as Anna finished Sybil's hair.

"Well," Anna laughed, "I'm glad I've got my decision made for me!"

"Oh yes, put it on and let's see," Mary encouraged.

A few moments later, Anna stepped back into the room.

"Oh wonderful! It looks just as I pictured. I did well, didn't I?"

Anna spun, surveying herself. The pants fit her superbly, and the top had a hi-low hem, exposing just a sliver of skin in the front, and fluttering longer in the back.

"It's perfect, Anna," Sybil declared.

"I envy you two, you know," mused Mary, surveying them. "I miss Matthew. You two have fellows to look lovely for"

"What do you mean?" said Anna, colouring.

"Well, Sybil's got Tom, and-" Sybil shot Mary a look, "and you're single," she covered quickly, deciding to avoid Sybil's wrath, "so there are lots of men's eyes you can catch," she finished smoothly.

Anna laughed. "I'm not exactly looking to find a fellow tonight, Mary. Let's just go and have a good time, shall we?"

* * *

><p>From his strategic, half-concealed seat in the back corner of the main room of Tom's flat, John saw them arrive. Sybil first, greeted immediately and enthusiastically by Tom. Next Mary, cooly surveying the scene around her. And finally, Anna. Lovely as ever, her skin almost glowing against the white of her shirt, her hair cascading in soft curls down her back. She looked around as she walked in, as if searching for someone. That made John's heart kick into gear, but his nerves stopped him from making himself known to her just yet.<p>

"Is John here?" Sybil asked Tom after they'd had a chance to say hello.

"yes," Tom grinned, "but he's nervous. Don't tell her yet, alright? Let him find her at his own speed."

"Probably best," Sybil consented. "Shall we dance then?"

"Lead the way, m'lady"

* * *

><p>Anna had nearly given up hope of John coming, and was trying to enjoy the party, when she finally spotted a familiar silhouette, alone on Tom's little balcony. She excused herself on the guise of needing to use the laidies', and slipped out to join him.<p>

"Hello there," she sounded braver than she felt. "I was worried you weren't coming,"

He swallowed, working up his courage before turning to her. "I'm touched," he smiled shyly. "It's good to see you." He had to steady himself, the way she looked at him. He never would've even dreamed of someone as exquisite as her looking at him like that.

"Needed a break?" Anna asked, gesturing back inside.

"No- well, yes" he admitted, "but that's not why I'm out here. It's been cloudy since before the sun set, but it's supposed to clear in a moment." She looked at him quizzically.

"I always look for the first star on New Year's Eve," he explained. "Ever since I was very young. My mum always said it was good luck. It's a bit silly, I know,"

"No, I don't think so. I think that's nice," Anna said sincerely. "A wish to start off the new year. I like it."

"A wish?'

"Yes, like in the rhyme."

"Rhyme?"

"Oh, 'Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight," she recited, "I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight', you know"

"I don't actually,"

"Oh! Well, it's something my mum always said. Whenever there was something I really wanted, she would always go outside with me as the sun was going down, and we'd wait for the stars and make a wish." She had a faraway look in her eyes, remembering.

"That's lovely," he said softly. "perhaps I'll have to try it."

"You should," she nodded. "Do you mind if I wait with you?"

"I'd like that." Only then did he realize she was still only wearing her sleeveless shirt. "You must be freezing! Here," he removed his jacket, holding it out for her.

She looked up at him as he finished helping her into it and stepped back. "Thank you."

Whatever weather report John had looked at seemed to have been wrong, as the minutes ticked on and they still waited. Neither seemed much inclined to speak, although Anna felt as if the air between them crackled with electricity. She didn't know what to do, or say. How would one start that conversation? _So, John, you know how I kissed you last week? How did you feel about that? Care to try it again?_ Any way she tried it out in her head sounded absurd. Just then, she caught sight of something in the corner of her eye.

"Look!" Anna grabbed his forearm excitedly, pointing. He startled at her touch, and then followed where she was looking to see a single star, twinkling down at them.

"Make a wish." Anna's voice was hushed, and when he glanced over, her eyes were closed.

"What did you wish for?" he asked her, although as soon as he said it he realized he wasn't sure he could confess _his_ wish to her.

She shook her head. "If I tell you, it won't come true, silly!" She teased.

"Oh, pardon me," he laughed as well. "I'm not familiar with all the rules of wish-making, it would seem."

The balcony door burst open then, startling them both. A young man whom Anna dimly remembered being introduced to earlier stuck his head out. "Two minutes till midnight! Come inside!"

"Oh my," Anna looked back up at John as the other man disappeared. "I'd no idea we'd been out here this long. Best let's go in."

As they walked inside, finding places on the fringes of the crowd that had formed in Tom's living room, Anna shed John's coat, handing it back to him. "Thank you again."

"My pleasure, he smiled."

"Twenty!" Someone started, and the rest rapidly joined in, the volume in the room increasing exponentially.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO!"

As the countdown had built, John found himself turned, facing Anna. He wasn't sure if he moved first, or if she did. Maybe it happened at the same time. All he knew was that as the sound of several dozen people shouting "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" echoed in his ears, he was kissing Anna. It was just lips at first, then his hands came up, almost of their own accord, to cradle her face. He felt hers slip around his neck. It was nothing like the mistletoe kiss, which had been hesitant, uncertain, and fleeting. That kiss was a question. This one was a declaration. A kiss to end all kisses. He had never had a better start to a new year.

They finally broke apart, both breathing a little harder, and she looked up at him, a hint of a smile playing around her eyes. "I got my wish," she said softly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**There you have it! Sorry to leave you hanging, but it seemed a good place to break it, and I've got a packed weekend ahead but wanted to give you the new chapter! I hope you enjoyed, and, as always, I really love hearing your thoughts :)**


	8. In My Eyes

**A/N:** Sorry for the longer wait for this chapter, but it's getting to be the end of the semester, and I've been under the weather with a really bad cold this week, so so it goes. But, here we are, finally! I hope it was worth the wait ;) _I_ like it, at least, and it's a long and eventful one, especially for the fact that it only covers about 24 hours! Anyways, thank you for the lovely reviews on the last chapter, as always, and now without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Happy New Year!" The moment was shattered as someone came around, thrusting champagne flutes into everyone's hands and the sound of a cork popping echoed through the small space. In the ensuing toasts and chaos Anna lost track of John, being caught up in hugs and Happy New Years; toasts and tipsy well wishes. Slowly the celebrating died down and the music came back up, people drifting back onto the dance floor(if you could call Tom's cleared-out living room that, anyways). Still Anna couldn't find John anywhere. <em>Why had he disappeared? After that kiss?<em> It had felt so certain to her. In her worry, she sought out Sybil, who upon seeing Anna's face immediately detached herself from Tom and came over.

"Anna, are you alright?"

"Have you seen John?"

"Yes, he came to say goodbye to Tom about a quarter of an hour ago,"

"He left?" Anna's face was the picture of confusion, with some hurt quickly growing underneath.

"He did. Anna, what happened?"

"I found him on the balcony, a couple of hours ago. We talked for a while. . . And then the countdown started, we came inside. At midnight. . . we kissed. It was . . ." Despite her worry, a dreamy look came over Anna's face, "incredible." She finished. "But then we lost track of each other. And he left?"

Sybil was saved trying to figure out how to reply as an alert tone sounded from Anna's phone. Looking at it, hope lit up her face, quickly to be replaced by confusion. She wordlessly held out the phone to Sybil.

**John Bates**

_I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. Happy New Year, Anna._

"No explanation." The confusion and hurt on her friend's face made Sybil want to hunt down John Bates and ask him what on earth he was thinking, or at the very least tell Tom to talk some sense into him.

"I must've been wrong," Anna said softly, her voice threatening to break. "I fancied he felt the same as I did. Clearly, I was wrong." She tried to laugh, but it came out more as a sob.

"No." Sybil took Anna firmly by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "You weren't wrong! He wouldn't have texted you if he didn't have feelings for you. He wouldn't be texting now."

"Then we did he leave? Why didn't he explain?"

Sybil shook her head. "I don't know. But we'll figure it out."

Anna nodded, but she still looked defeated. "I think I'll go, Sybil."

"Okay." She'd figured as much. "Shall I say goodbye to Mary for you?"

"No," Anna sighed, squaring her shoulders. "She'll just want to know why I couldn't say it myself. Goodnight Sybil," She summoned up a weak, but sincere, smile. "And thank you"

* * *

><p>John Bates was a coward. Or at least so he thought, as his feet carried him away from Tom's flat, into the tube station, and now, to his door and into his living room. He fell heavily into an armchair. He'd always secretly felt he was a coward, but this took the cake. He'd kissed her, the most amazing kiss of his life, and then he'd run away. Why had he done it?<p>

Because he was afraid.

He wasn't even afraid of breaking his promise to himself anymore, really. He knew it was unreasonable by this point, and that what he felt for Anna was genuine. That was part of the problem. He felt so much for Anna, it scared him. He'd never felt this deeply for anyone, let alone someone as out of his league as Anna was. Moreover, he knew that if he wanted to take this further, he would have to tell her about him. About all the grisly, miserable details of his life with Vera. About why he'd left journalism(his failure, as he thought of it). About the drinking. She thought well of him now. He saw the way her eyes shone when she looked at him. If she knew him, really knew him, that would disappear. How could he, the real John Bates, keep the good opinion, the esteem, of a woman like Anna Smith? He couldn't.

And so because he was a coward, he had run. But it wasn't only cowardly, he realized. It was rude. And he could have hurt her. What if she thought he regretted the kiss? He had to give her something. He pulled out his mobile, and composed a message.

* * *

><p>Anna had always believed that you needed to begin the new year as you meant to carry it on; start on a good note. She saw January first as a day to turn over a new leaf, to take a stab at her resolutions, to start the ball rolling on the Best Year Yet.<p>

He resolutions for 2015 hadn't been to roll out of bed at 11 o'clock, and then camp out on the couch eating sugary cereal and flipping channels all day, yet here she was. Around noon she'd switched to crisps and Christmas chocolate, and had found a Harry Potter marathon on telly. Harry had just run away from the Dursley's after blowing up his aunt when her mobile rang. She quickly muted the tv, willing herself not to get excited (and failing utterly) as she fished around in the cushions for the phone.

_Mary Crawley_, read the caller ID. Deflating, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Anna, I'm just calling to let you know that Granny has deigned to join us tonight at the last moment, so the dress code's changed. So put on something nice, perhaps that blue dress, the one you bought for Gwen's wedding?"

Anna's processing speed seemed to have dropped a notch. "Tonight?"

"Yes, Mama and Papa's New Years dinner. You didn't forget, did you?"

"I'm afraid I did, Mary. I don't know if I can-"

"Oh you can't cancel now! I'll be frightfully bored without you there. Be a darling, Anna"

"I'm sorry, Mary, I'm just really not feeling up to it tonight," usually she loved parties, but didn't feel like facing one tonight.

"Please, Anna!"

"I'm sorry, Mary."

"Wait!" Mary exclaimed hurriedly, sensing Anna was about to hang up. "I haven't played my trump card!"

"If it's the 'but I'm your best friend' card, I'm afraid it won't work tonight," Anna sighed.

"It's not," there was smugness in her friends tone.

"Then what is it?"

"John Bates will be there." Mary listened to Anna's stunned silence for a moment. "See you at six, darling."

* * *

><p>John stood in front of his mirror, nervously adjusting his tie and looking himself over. He found large groups of the Crawleys' friends unsettling at the best of times, and he wasn't exactly primed for small-talk tonight. But gratitude towards Robert, both for including him now and for pulling the strings that had got him this job and by extension, a new lease on life, made it impossible for him to duck out. He wondered idly if he'd know anyone other than the family tonight. With that thought, he froze. <em>Would Anna be there?<em> She was Mary's best friend, which wouldn't necessarily include her, but he knew now that she had family ties to the Crawleys. He briefly considered texting her, then decided against it. He'd lost his confidence, where Anna was concerned. Or the illusion had been shattered. Either way, he felt it couldn't go on. He wasn't good enough for her, he knew that. And she would find that out if he kept on. Better to distance himself now, and save himself the humiliation. She was young, and vibrant, and beautiful, he reasoned. She would get over him quickly, and find someone better, more deserving. She would be fine. He convinced himself of that.

He wasn't as sure that he would be fine, but that seemed less important.

* * *

><p>Anna paced the floorboards in front of her closet, nerves eating her. He would be there tonight. What would she say to him? Would he want to see her? She felt she had to confront him. She was tired of games and beating around the bush. But she was not entirely sure she was brave enough.<p>

She also missed her best friend. Sybil was a dear, but Mary had always been with her through all the hard things, and Anna felt herself wanting to talk to her now. But she'd shut her out this time(albeit not without reason), and she wasn't sure how to bring her back in. She glanced at her bedside clock. 5:15. _Oh my_.

She pulled the blue dress, the one Mary had recommended, out of her closet and slipped it on, then put her hair up swiftly. Rushing was good, it didn't give her time to think. Surveying her shoe rack, she selected a pair of silver pumps - sparkle for New Years, and heels for confidence. She pulled on her coat, grabbed her handbag, and left, not knowing exactly what the evening would bring.

* * *

><p>Sybil looked questioningly at the place card her sister had just set on the vast dining table, as she followed behind laying down silverware. "Anna's still coming, then?"<p>

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Sybil ignored the question "Did you tell her John would be there?"

"Of course. That's how I got her to come, after all"

"Really?" Sybil's surprise wasn't lost on Mary

"Why wouldn't it make her want to come?"

"No reason," Sybil backtracked quickly, suddenly becoming very concerned with making sure the forks were lined up perfectly.

"Sybil." Mary stopped what she was doing, looking pointedly at her sister. "What do you know that I don't know?"

Sybil fought with herself for a moment. "They're not my secrets to tell," she said finally.

"Since when do you know Anna's secrets more than I do?" Mary snapped.

Sybil shrugged, not rising. "We talk"

"So do we!"

Sybil sighed. "_You_ talk, Mary."

What's that supposed to mean?"

Sybil laid the last place setting before responding. "Sometimes you push too much, Mary."

"So because you think I'm pushy you feel entitled to steal my best friend?"

Sybil looked at her sister with something almost like pity in her face. "She came to me, Mary." With that, she exited, leaving Mary alone in the room.

In the time it took her to finish the dining room and make her way upstairs, Mary progressed from indignation to shame. Sybil was right.

Mary _knew_ Anna was a private person. She, more than anyone, knew Anna's past with relationships. She should have known that her friend would need patience, and a listening ear, free of anything like judgement. But what had she done? Goaded her, teased her, tormented her. Of course she had driven her away. She slumped back onto her bed, engulfed in self-disgust. After a moment, though, she pulled out her mobile, connecting herself to the only person who seemed to maintain a belief in her goodness no matter what.

"Hello, darling," he picked up after the third ring

"I'm a terrible person!"

"Mary." Matthew's voice was level, trying to calm her down. "You know I could never believe that. Will you tell me what's happened?"

"I've chased away my best friend is what's happened!"

"I think I need a few more details than that, darling"

"With John Bates!" I've spent the last month teasing her, pushing her, until she's going to Sybil because she's afraid to talk to me!"

"Ah."

"Even you told me to be careful, and I didn't listen! I'm horrid." Her voice was dangerously close to breaking.

"You're not horrid, darling. You've made a mistake, but you can fix it. Talk to her."

"I don't - will she even want to?" Mary's voice was small as she confessed this, one of her worst fears, to Matthew. She hated being vulnerable.

"There's only one way to find out. But I think she will. She'll be there soon, won't she?"

"She will. In fact-" Mary's eyes darted to her clock, registering with surprise how late it already was. "I should finish getting ready. Thank you, Matthew."

"You're welcome. And, darling? I'm proud of you."

That wasn't what she had been expecting to hear. "Why?"

"Because you're trying. I love you, Mary."

* * *

><p>Despite her late start, Anna still managed to wind up at the Crawleys before most of the other guests. She'd just been relieved of her coat and was making her way to the sitting room, looking for the family, when Mary flew lightly down the stairs, dressed but with her hair cascading messily about her shoulders. "Anna! Would you be a darling and come upstairs? I can't seem to get my hair right, perhaps you could work your magic?"<p>

"Of course," Anna offered her friend a smile, and then followed her lead up the grand staircase. Part of her wondered if she shouldn't be glad to catch Mary alone. She almost wanted to confide in her best friend. Almost. But she still felt guarded with Mary where John was concerned.

As they entered the sumptuous bedroom, she made her way automatically towards Mary's vanity table, expecting her to take the seat in front of it, but instead Mary paused in the middle of the room and began to speak. "Anna, I have to apologize."

"What for?" Anna asked curiously. In all the years she'd known her, an unsolicited apology from Mary was rare.

"For everything," Mary sighed, sinking onto her bed. "For teasing you about John. For not listening when you said you didn't want to talk about it. For not asking you before rigging the Secret Santa. For everything." She looked at her hands, and Anna was a little stunned. It wasn't often one saw Mary Crawley look ashamed.

"What's brought this on?" Was all Anna could think to say.

"Sybil - she didn't tell me anything, mind you - but she let on that she knew things, and I realized I'd pushed you away with my prying. I'm sorry Anna, truly. I should have known better. I feel so ashamed." She hung her head.

Although it was in a way satisfying to see Mary admitting she was wrong, Anna also wanted to put her friend out of her misery. She sat beside Mary, putting an arm around her. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it," Mary looked up, and Anna was touched to see her eyes were rather wet. "But goodness knows," she choked out a laugh, "that's never stopped you before."

Anna smiled fondly before pulling Mary in for a tight hug. "I don't agree," she told her. "You're a good friend, Mary. I've never doubted that. But thank you."

They both straightened up, Mary drying her eyes. "Now," Anna began, "How about that hair?"

Anna worked in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, the air cleared. She was just sliding the last pin into Mary's sleek chignon when Mary spoke. "Anna, I don't want to pry -" she caught sight of Anna's wry half-smile in the mirror, "no, I really don't! But Sybil said- well, suggested, really- that something happened yesterday. Between you and John, that she seemed to think might make you not want to see him and I just - wanted to know if you were okay, I suppose. If you wanted to talk."

"That might be good, actually."

". . .and after, he just left. Disappeared. Twenty minutes later, I get this text," Anna pulled out her phone, reading the message to Mary. She'd just spent the last quarter of an hour sitting on her friend's bed, recounting everything; the mistletoe, the Christmas texts, the wishing on stars, the midnight kiss.

"Did you reply?" asked Mary.

Anna shook her head. "No. What would I say? Why would he leave? We seemed to be getting on so well. And that kiss. . . It really was a spectacular kiss." A dreamy expression flitted across her face before she snapped back to reality. "But then he leaves, no explanation. I don't know what to do."

"Anna." Mary laid a hand on Anna's knee, looking her in the eye. "You like this man, really like him." it wasn't a question, but Anna nodded anyway. "I think you need to talk to him. Tell him what you want. Playing games, waiting around, it rarely works. I got very lucky," She said, thinking of Matthew and the countless times she'd almost lost him.

"But when? Call him? Corner him at work?" She half-laughed at the absurdity of that suggestion.

"No. Tonight. He'll be here. Sooner's better, I think."

"So I just go up to him and tell him I want to talk and pull him into an empty room?" Anna asked skeptically.

"No, I'd say that's probably not the best approach,"

"Then I just hope that we happen to end up alone in a corner somewhere together?"

"No," Mary shook her head, and Anna could almost see the gears turning in her brain. "I've got it!" She snapped her fingers, a triumphant look transforming her face. "Papa was saying earlier how he wanted to show John the OED he got for Christmas-"

"Your dad's got an OED?" Anna asked excitedly, and Mary laughed.

"Yes, and that's why it works! It's just the kind of thing you get excited over as well, so it would be perfectly reasonable for me to bring you into the library to see it,"

"And John and your father would just happen to be there already?" Anna filled in, catching on.

"Yes," Mary smiled. "But then of course I'd remember that there was something Mama needed Papa for, so I'd take him away." She smiled, pleased with herself. "I know, I'm rather brilliant, aren't I?"

Anna just laughed, and stood up, brushing her hands over her skirt. "So, here goes nothing?"

"Yes," Mary grinned, rising to her feet as well and slipping her arm through Anna's. "Here goes nothing."

* * *

><p>"This is beautiful, Robert," remarked John almost reverently, turning a page in the first of the twenty-volume set - a word lover's paradise. "It was almost worth coming tonight just to see this," he joked.<p>

"Oh, well I hope I didn't twist your arm too much. . ."

"I was only teasing, Robert. I was glad to be invited, really, thank you. I'm only afraid I won't know many people."

"You will, actually," Robert told him. "There are a few people you'll remember from the BBC, and a few from Grantham."

"Oh?" John asked, wondering about Anna.

"Yes, well, Elsie Hughes, of course, and Charles Carson, they're both as much old friends as they are employees. Oh, and Anna Smith. She's a good friend of Mary's, works in Graphic Design. Lovely young woman. I don't know if you'll have met her?"

John was trying to figure out how to respond when the library doors burst open and in walked Mary Crawley, followed closely by none other than Anna herself.

"Oh, hello Papa, John!" She nodded in his direction before turning back to address her father. "I didn't think anyone would be in here, I'm sorry. I was just telling Anna about your OED, and she said it sounded so interesting, so I thought I'd show her."

"Oh, of course, come in, come in," Robert waved them forward. "plenty of room! John," he turned to his friend, "This is Anna Smith. Anna, this is -"

"John Bates, I know. We've met," She filled in, smiling at Robert before meeting John's eyes, her expression unreadable.

John fixed his eyes back on the page in front of him, exquisitely uncomfortable as, beside him, Robert began to talk to Anna, showing her the books.

"Oh, Papa," Mary's voice rang out a moment later, "I've just remembered, Mama told me that if I saw you she wanted me to ask you to come down to the wine cellar, and select something for dinner. She forgot to ask you earlier."

"Oh, of course. I'll go straightaway. Do excuse me, John, Anna." Almost at the door, he turned. "What are we serving, Mary?"

"Oh, it's quite a list," Mary laughed, "And she wants something separate for each course, of course. Why don't I just come with you? I'm sure the books will be enough to entertain Anna and John," With that, she swept her father out of the room, leaving him alone with Anna.

"So," She said, turning to face him.

He swallowed. "I don't know if I've been hoping for this, or dreading it," he admitted nervously.

"Well," said Anna, seemingly fighting to keep her voice level. "either way, it's happened."

Her words hung in the air for a moment before she continued. "Why did you disappear last night, John? Why didn't you explain? I thought we were getting on so well, I-" she paused, looking him in the eye. "John, I know it's not ladylike to say it, but I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be. I fancy you, John Bates! And I reckoned you fancied me as well, but now I don't know what to think. I'm tired of playing games."

There was a fire in her eyes, like she was readying herself for a fight. Her, this incredible creature, wanting to fight for _him_. The idea seemed impossible. "You are a lady to me. And I've never known a finer one," he found himself saying.

Silence fell again, and he knew she was waiting for him to speak.

"I got scared, Anna. I do fancy you, of course. How could I not? But I got scared because - because I know I don't deserve you, Anna. Not even close. And when you get to know me a little better, you'll find that out, and you won't want me any more."

"I will." She said, defiant.

He shook his head sadly. "No, you won't, Anna. Not once you knew the real John Bates."

She fixed him with a fiery gaze, a challenge burning in her eyes. "Try me."

That wasn't what he was expecting to hear, and his expression must have said as much.

"Tell me whatever it is I don't know, that you think will change my opinion of you, and let me make up my own mind. You owe me that at least, surely?"

He couldn't deny that. "I suppose I do. I don't know if this is exactly the place, though"

She shook her head, agreeing. "It's not. So tonight, after dinner, you'll get away as soon as you can after the meal is over, and you'll meet me at a cafe I know a few streets from here. The Red Lion."

"Alright." was all he could think to say, still stunned.

"I'll see you later, then, Mr. Bates," she said, looking back at him as she made her way to the door. "And John? I'm made of sterner stuff than I might seem."

* * *

><p>"So?" Mary caught Anna later, in the drawing room, pulling her aside for a quiet word.<p>

"I talked to him," Anna began. "I asked him what was going on. He said he'd gotten scared-"

"Scared?"

"Yes. Apparently he thinks he's not good enough for me-"

"Well of course he isn't," her friend smiled, "I don't know if even Prince Charming himself would be deserving of you if it came down to it, but you've got to settle somewhere. Besides, isn't it to you to decide who is or isn't good enough for you?"

"It is," Anna agreed, laughing. "Now will you let me finish?"

"Of course, darling. I'm sorry"

"He said that if I knew everything there was to know, I wouldn't think so highly of him. I told him to try me." Anna smiled despite herself, proud of her boldness. "I told him to get away after dinner, and to meet me at the Red Lion."

"Well well," Mary looked at her friend, impressed. "Look at you, Anna Smith."

* * *

><p>John stood off to the side of the room as people milled about, eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping drinks while they waited for dinner. John's mind was occupied, as it often seemed to be, with Anna. He was fighting the hope that her words had conjured up in him. She said that now, but she didn't know. When she knew, she couldn't truly think he was worthy of her. Could she? Time would tell, he supposed. His eyes drifted back over where she was talking animatedly to Cora Crawley on the other side of the room. She was, as always, stunning.<p>

He hadn't realized that he was being watched in his watching until he sensed the presence of someone beside him. He looked over to see Elsie.

"Good evening, Ms. Hughes."

"That girl's heart, Mr. Bates, is a precious thing," she said by way of a greeting. "I hope you know that."

Taken aback, he couldn't manage to summon a reply.

"She's not as bulletproof as she might seem, you know. And I for one won't take kindly to that heart being broken," she continued matter-of-factly, fixing him with a piercing gaze. She didn't say '_again_', but it seemed to be implied. "Just so we're clear, Mr. Bates."

"If I'm entrusted with it, Mrs. Hughes, I can assure you I intend to take the utmost care." He responded soberly, and he felt he'd never said anything truer in his life.

Elsie cracked a small smile. "I'm glad," she said simply, before turning and walking off.

* * *

><p>Anna had done a fair job of suppressing her nerves all throughout dinner, but as she closed the door to the Crawleys' home behind her and made her way out into the London night they came back in full force. She'd meant what she'd said to John back in the Library. Truly, she didn't think there was much that could change her opinion of him. Everyone had chapters they'd rather keep unpublished, after all. But a small part of her wondered what exactly it could be that he was going to tell her, and was scared.<p>

Her thoughts so occupied her that before she knew it she was looking up at the familiar sign of the Red Lion. She pushed open the door and was greeted with cheerful tinkling of the bell, and a nod and murmured greeting from the sole barista. The place was nearly empty, and her eyes quickly found John, already seated at a table in the corner. He rose as she approached, pulling out a chair for her.

"What can I get you?" he asked, gesturing towards the counter.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "Please. I'd like to."

"A Chai latté then, thank you."

She sat, watching her fingers drumming nervously on the worn tabletop until he returned, setting a steaming mug down in front of her before taking his own seat. She lifted it to her face, inhaling, and had barely taken her first sip of the fragrant cinnamon-laced drink before he began speaking.

"Out of my first degree, I took an internship with the BBC - that's how I met Robert, by the way. I worked here, in London, for a few years, and then I got the chance to go overseas to cover the war. Of course, for a young man not far out of school, and an aspiring journalist, it seemed a golden opportunity. I was there for a few months at a time, with short trips back in between, for almost three years, all told . . ."

Anna sat in silence, listening intently to John and sipping her drink once in a while, when she remembered it. She listened as he told her, in a flood, of his experiences in the Middle East: How his hot-blooded bravado had quickly disappeared when he was faced with the reality of the situation, the violence, the brutality, and the inhumanity of it all. Her heart ached for him, the pain on his face when he admitted he had ended up quitting before he was supposed to. "I just couldn't take it any more," he admitted, hanging his head, his gaze falling to his hands. She'd noticed as he got more and more into the harder parts of his story he had met her eyes less and less. _Was this what he was ashamed of?_ she wondered. To her, it wasn't a reason for shame. She longed to reach out and take his hand, to comfort him, but she felt it wasn't the time. He had just taken a breath, about, she imagined, to embark on the next part of his story, when a shadow fell over the table.

They looked up to see the young barista. "I'm sorry," she began apologetically, "but we're closing."

"Oh, of course," Anna stammered, standing up. She'd lost track of time, sitting there. Lost track of everything but the words spilling in an almost uncontrollable tumble from John's lips, really. She shrugged on her own coat, and this time, it was she who helped John on with his. They exited the cafe, and by wordless agreement started walking together, John picking up his account where he'd left it off.

"By a month after I'd returned, I'd gotten a job at Waterstones, and I met and started seeing someone. Her name was Vera. Vera wasn't a nice woman - isn't a nice woman - but I wasn't very nice then either," he admitted, hanging his head again. "Everything I saw, it had made me angry, and I didn't know what to do with it. Vera's nastiness and bitterness matched the anger I was feeling. At first, I think I was with her because I couldn't seem to stand being around people who were acting like everything was rosy, but soon I think it became a sort of way to punish myself. I had failed, I was ashamed. We were never happy, but I felt like I deserved it. Several months in, I began drinking in earnest - She was a bit of a disciple of the bottle herself. I'm not proud at all of the person I was." he drew in a breath before continuing.

"A few years on, I finally mustered some shred of self-respect and tried to pull myself back together. I applied for graduate school. Broke it off with Vera. I got in, and for a few months things were better. I was still drinking probably more than was good for me, but less than I had been. And then, she came back. I wasn't strong enough, or smart enough, to turn her away. It kept on like that, all the time I was in school. We would be together and miserable for a few months, then one of us would break it off, then a month or so later it would start up again. Every time, I lost a little more respect for myself. Finally, I graduated. I got another job at a bookshop, and I was still with Vera. That carried on for bit, until this summer, out of the blue, I run into Robert on the street. We'd been out of touch for a few years, but we got lunch and caught up. I told him where I was, in vague terms, and he offered me a job at Grantham. He's a good man, Robert. He likes to give people a chance, probably more than we often deserve. I took it as a chance to make a new start. I broke it off with Vera, for good. I cut down on the drinking almost entirely. And then, a few months in, I meet you." he looked at her then, for the first time in some time. By this point, they'd found a bench and sat down.

"You captivated me from the moment I met you, Anna. At first, I was hesitant to begin anything because I didn't want to be - rebounding, I suppose. And I still didn't feel entirely free of Vera. She likes to hang on, and I still haven't managed to get her to pick up boxes of her things that are in my flat. I'd have told her I was just going to give them to charity, but she's still got my spare key. I told myself that once I was free of them, then I'd be free to see if you'd give me a shot. But more than that, now, I'd realized that I could never be worthy of you, Anna. Look at me. I was a drunk, I'm little more than a failure."

"John Bates." Anna spoke to him for the first time since he'd begun, and her words were almost fierce. "Don't you think you ought to let me make up my own mind about who does or doesn't deserve me, now that I know the facts? I do know everything, don't I?"

"You do," he confirmed. "And I suppose that's fair. What do you think, Anna Smith?" The look in her eyes made him hope once more.

"I think," she began, "That I don't care, for one, that your ex's things are still in boxes in your flat, as long as you say it's over. And I think that leaving journalism doesn't make you a failure. Not in my eyes. I think that you're not the first person to have a relationship they're ashamed of, and I think that it's not who you were, but who you _are_, that matters. And I think," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and locking her eyes onto his, "That I would rather like to kiss you now."

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><p>John couldn't quite believe the words that he was hearing. She knew everything, and the look in her eyes hadn't changed. She knew everything, and, miracle of miracles, she seemed to still want to be with him. In fact, "I would rather like to kiss you now," he heard coming out of her mouth as her eyes locked onto his before she leaned in, her lids fluttering closed. He followed suit, and as soon as their lips met, he was lost.<p>

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><p>Anna knew that there were more conversations in the future for them to have, more things to be said, more things to learn and to share. But right now, all she wanted was to feel his lips on hers; his hands on her back; his arms around her; his knee, touching hers. Right now, all she knew was that this was the beginning of something wonderful.<p>

After some time, who could tell exactly how much, they broke apart, his hand reaching up to smooth back her hair before falling to entwine his fingers with hers. "I should probably get you home, shouldn't I?"

She glanced at his watch. "Probably," she agreed reluctantly, grinning sheepishly.

"Might I take you for breakfast tomorrow morning?" he asked as they stood up from the bench.

"Breakfast?"

"Keen, I know," he allowed, smiling at her self-consciously. "But what can I say?" he shrugged, his grin enough to melt her heart. "I'm keen." With that he leaned down, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, and kissed her once more.

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><p><strong>AN:** Ta-da! I'll admit, it makes me super happy how cute these two are, even though I'm the one writing them. Anywho, there you have it - Mary comes to her senses, John and Anna **finally** actually talk about their feelings, and adorableness follows, obviously. Also, yes, this is the chapter of me shamelessly stealing and inserting lines from canon :)  
>I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, it might be more like a week and a half because I've got my first two exams in just over a week, but we'll see! As always, I love reviews :) Thanks for reading!<p> 


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